Felicity The Virgin
by SpyKid18
Summary: When Felicity is accidentally artificially inseminated with hotel mogul Oliver Queen's sperm, her life changes in more ways than she could have ever imagined. Jane The Virgin - OLICITY STYLE AU
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, as you might have guessed, this is Jane The Virgin - OLICITY STYLE! I wasn't going to write this, but then I couldn't stop thinking about it. So...here you go! **

Felicity The Virgin

There were three things Felicity knew with certainty. Never go to bed with wet hair. The only real way to drink coffee is to drink it black. And she would never get used to going to the gynecologist.

She thought of that last one as she sat with her legs in the hospital issued stirrups, reading the trite inspirational quotes that covered the walls of the room. The measure of who we are is what we do with what we have. Your big opportunity may be right were you are now. It might be uncomfortable to have an arguable stranger rifling through your insides, but, hey, at least she'd leave with some inspiration.

She was using another of the practice's doctors this time, her usual one on vacation in Europe. He was all business, not offering her more than a perfunctory hello when he walked in, and then getting straight to business. When he was finished he pushed back from the bed, flipping off the light he'd used during the examination.

"Alright, you're finished. We'll be in touch to schedule a follow up."

"A follow up?" Felicity asked, pulling the paper dressing over her lap to cover herself.

"Standard procedure to see how things are advancing," he said absentmindedly, already heading toward the door. On his way out he added, "Just talk to the nurses out front. Nice meeting you, Ms. Smoak."

She didn't know what exactly would be advancing, but since the chief person who could correct her lack of understanding was probably halfway across the hospital by now at his rate of speed, there was little to do. It was standard procedure, after all. Those two words in themselves meant she shouldn't worry. So, she got dressed and headed back out into the relentless Las Vegas heat.

* * *

><p>Felicity didn't particularly enjoy waitressing at casinos. Then again, who in their right mind would say they did? It was a means to an end, and she reminded herself of that every day when she put on the shimmering champagne shift dress and heels. She had one year of grad school left to pay for, and then she could finally hang up her cocktail dress, and her mother could, too.<p>

Donna Smoak never complained about the work – it supported both of them and helped put Felicity through college – but even the strongest woman got sick of roving hands and shitty tips. That was why Felicity worked so hard. So she could give her mother the life she deserved. She'd get her set up somewhere off the strip, and they'd burn all their pushup bras and proudly proclaim to never serve another person a drink again.

Until then, though, they were stuck. Las Vegas was a town of casinos, and unless you wanted to be working for minimum, minimum wage you pushed your sensibility to the side and joined the cabaret.

"Do you know someone out there actually sent back his whiskey and coke because there wasn't enough whiskey in it?" her fellow waitress, and friend, Tamara said, mixing drinks with Felicity in the back bar.

"Let me guess, it was a penny slotter?"

Tamara topped the glass off with a splash of whiskey. "Of course it was. I'm half tempted to just add more soda and then avoid their section."

"That will get you fired."

"Nah. Probably just a firm reprimand," Tamara said. "You know Hank. He's a big softie."

"I saw him make one of the girls cry last week for wearing flats."

"We're waitresses at a casino," Tamara said, sniffing. "Only an idiot would wear flats."

"I'm glad to see you're so understanding with your fellow waitresses," Felicity teased, dropping a maraschino cherry into a Shirley Temple black.

"People get what they deserve," Tamara held airily. She hesitated for a moment and then sighed, reaching forward and adding another splash of whiskey to the glass. "Watch, now he'll say there's _too much _whiskey."

Felicity smirked, watching Tamara walk out toward the floor. Felicity mixed two more drinks and then headed out to her section of the floor. A few people at slot machines flagged her down and she stopped, taking their orders before heading over to deliver the drinks on her tray.

On her way back to the bar she was met with what could only be a bachelor party. You could always tell them by the stench of alcohol and desperation.

"Hey, babe, over here!" one of the men yelled, gesturing for her. Swallowing her gut reaction to bristle at being called babe by anyone, she plastered on a smile and walked over.

"Hello boys, what can I get you?" she asked.

"Tell me," another asked, slipping an around her waist. "Do you come with the drinks?"

Every inch of her body wanted to shove her tray into his chest, but she clenched her muscles tightly and willed herself to stay calm as she chirped, "I'm afraid not. We have pretty great drinks, though. What about margaritas? You guys look like you could use a round."

The guy holding her waist moved his hand down and slapped her bottom.

"Now, that is an idea. Margaritas all around."

Order taken she quickly pulled away from the man, unnecessarily jotting margaritas down on a cocktail napkin as she went back to the bar. Tamara was back, mixing another set of drinks.

"I saw you got the bachelor party," Tamara noted.

"And I got my ass slapped," Felicity returned in a tight voice.

Tamara shook her head, balancing a tray of drinks against her waist. "Just another day on the job, huh?"

She walked off to the floor and Felicity sighed, resting her palms on the bar.

"Yeah," she muttered. "Just another day."

* * *

><p>"I don't know. Isn't another burger place a little…been there done that?" Oliver asked, sitting with a bunch of suits in a small conference room. "I mean, there's already Bobby's Burger Palace at New York, New York. Then there's Gordon Ramsay's Burgr at Planet Hollywood. Le Burger Brassier at Paris."<p>

"He knows this because he's eaten at all of them. Repeatedly," Tommy added with a wry grin.

"We could differentiate ourselves," a suit said emphatically. "We can make it themed. Or only use organic produce. Local produce!"

"From where?" Tommy said. "We're in the middle of a desert."

"I don't want this casino to be just like the others," Oliver said. "It needs to stand out. I just don't think another burger place is going to do that."

"Salads," one of the suits said slowly. "What about salads? You never see salad places on the strip. It's all fried food and grease."

"Yeah, because who asks for fresh greens when they're trashed?" Tommy intoned.

"It's different," he offered in a small voice.

"It's misguided," Tommy held. "I still don't think it would be a terrible idea to pick up a Food Network chef. Tourists love that shit."

"What about a classic Las Vegas restaurant?" Oliver mused. "One with good food at low prices. A full prime rib meal for ten dollars. Dollar shrimp cocktails. We don't have much of that up here on the strip."

"Because it detracts from a nicer hotel," one of the suits said sagely. "You define yourself by the product you offer. If you offer cheap food, you – "

"Give people the option to have a delicious dinner without spending a hundred dollars," Oliver finished. "And the money they don't spend there they'll go spend in our casino."

"I don't know, Mr. Queen. There is a reason no other casinos in this part of the strip offer those sort of meals."

"Yes, because they're far too short sighed," Oliver said. "And, frankly, a little stuck up. In what universe is a filet worth sixty dollars?"

"That one from Mario Batali's restaurant was pretty good," Tommy noted. "I mean, it probably wasn't worth sixty. Fifty, maybe."

Oliver grinned, beginning to gather his papers on the table. "Alright, let's work on plans for a traditional Las Vegas restaurant. We'll meet again in two weeks to see where we are. Does that work for everyone?"

There was a general chorus of affirmation and Oliver stood up, walking out of the conference room with Tommy on his heel. They walked out into an ornately decorated corridor, all marble and high ceilings. It had been six months since his family opened the casino, but he still felt the slightest thrill when he walked the expansive hallways. They'd built something beautiful, and he took immense care and pride in every inch of it.

"I still think the burger place could have worked," Tommy said. "Who doesn't love a burger?"

"Everyone does," Oliver admitted. "But they also have about eighty other places to choose from."

Tommy shrugged. "Fair enough. Hey, you and Laurel went to see Dr. Lerman this morning, right?"

Oliver nodded.

"How was it? I mean, when will you know if it worked?"

"Not for a week or so," he said.

"How are you handling it?" Tommy asked.

"It's difficult," Oliver admitted. "After Laurel's miscarriage last year, it's just…we really need this to work."

"Either way, you guys are strong," Tommy told him. "You'll get through this."

"Thanks man."

* * *

><p>Felicity got the call during her a break at work at the end of the week. She was sitting at the casino's small coffee shop, getting some much needed caffeine, when her phone rang. It was a nurse on the other end who told her in no unequivocal terms that she was to come to the hospital the next day.<p>

"I'm sure it's nothing bad," Donna told her, giving her daughter's arm a motherly squeeze.

"It sounded pretty bad," Felicity said. "Okay, maybe not bad, but definitely a little apocalyptic. I think the nurse's voice was actually wavering."

"Don't get yourself all worried," Donna said gently. "It'll give you wrinkles."

Felicity smirked. Of course when she was panicking her mother's first inclination would be to warn her about wrinkles.

"Can you come with me?" Felicity asked, sipping her coffee.

"Of course. If it will make you feel better, I'll be there."

So, it was Donna and Felicity Smoak, sitting in an overly air-conditioned patient visiting room as Felicity's one-time-gynecologist admitted to accidentally artificially inseminating her.

"Excuse me?" Felicity stammered. "I-I don't think I understood you correctly. Because you just said I was artificially inseminated, and that-that's crazy. That's totally, certifiably, hey-is-this-banana-a-phone-crazy."

The doctor explained again – he got the room numbers of her and another patient who was being artificially inseminated confused – but Felicity couldn't understand. It was absolute insanity. Really. This couldn't be happening.

"You may not become pregnant," the doctor said, grabbing Felicity's attention. "We're going to draw some blood today and test it. The pregnancy may not show this early, so we will have to draw your blood again if it comes back negative, but…"

He went off into the land of apologies again, but Felicity stopped listening. It was possible she wouldn't become pregnant. This could still turn out okay. Sure, some rando's sperm had swum their way up her fallopian tubes, but that didn't have to mean she was pregnant.

"Where can I get this blood test taken?" Felicity interrupted.

"Doctor, whose sperm exactly did you inseminate my daughter with?" Donna asked pointedly. If looks could kill, the look that accompanied that question would have rendered the doctor deader than a doornail.

"I'm not at liberty to disclose that information at this time."

"It'll come out when we sue the crap out of you," Donna said harshly. "So, how about you just say it now? Whose sperm did you inseminate my daughter with?"

The doctor hesitated and Felicity murmured, "Oh God, it's some magician, isn't it? Or a Jonas Brother?"

The doctor sighed, defeat evident on his face. "It's Oliver Queen."

Felicity's mouth dropped open.

* * *

><p>The first time Felicity met Oliver Queen was on a plane ride from New York to Las Vegas. She'd gone to New York to represent her high school in New York's premiere science fair. It had been three whirlwind days of talking up her exhibit and hobnobbing with the science world's best. By the time she boarded the plane she was so exhausted she could barely keep her eyes open.<p>

She didn't.

She'd fallen asleep before the plane even took off, the sound of chatter and luggage being shoved into overhead compartments lulling her to sleep. She awoke with something soft against her cheek. It smelled like pine and lemon. It wasn't until she'd rubbed her nose against it a few times that she realized there was a firm body beneath it, and she glanced up, breath catching in her throat when her eyes fell on a well-drawn jaw.

She'd pulled back, stammering some apology, but Oliver only chuckled warmly and told her, "It seemed like you needed the sleep more than I needed my shoulder."

He'd gone back to his book then and she pressed back into her seat, suddenly wide awake.

"Plane guy inseminated you?" Donna whispered loudly as her and Felicity walked down to flobotamy.

"I cannot deal with this right now," Felicity said in a tight voice. "I'll just take the blood test. And if the results are…" she swallowed hard, "…then I'll deal with that. But not right now. I can't."

"Okay," Donna said, grasping her daughter's arm. "It's going to be fine. You heard the doctor. There's only a little over a 50/50 chance that the insemination works. I bet you this will all turn out okay. We'll laugh about it later." She slid her arm around her shoulders and echoed their earlier conversation as she said, "Everything will be okay."

It wasn't. Felicity found out a week later at 3:34 in the afternoon that she was pregnant, and she promptly vomited in an ice bucket.

"Oh, baby, it's going to be okay," Donna said, rubbing her back. "Everything will be okay."

* * *

><p>When Oliver found out Dr. Lerman inseminated the wrong woman with his sperm he was livid, and then he found out he'd accidentally inseminated a cocktail waitress and now she was pregnant, and he ran out of emotions. That was, until he and Laurel met her in a private dining room in his casino. A whole gamut of emotions ran through him as the diminutive blonde and a similarly blonde, but older, woman walked to their table.<p>

He recognized her immediately, although he couldn't place her. It was when she sat down, trembling hands grasping the edge of the mahogany table, that it came to him.

"It's you," he murmured.

Laurel looked at him in confusion and she said, "You two know each other?"

"No, not really," he said quickly. "We…" he shook his head at the serendipity, "…we met on a plane some years ago."

"Seven," Felicity said nervously. "It was seven years ago." She turned her attention to his wife. "I'm Felicity Smoak and this is my mom Donna."

"Laurel Queen," the woman said in a guarded voice. Felicity half-reached for her hand, but when she noticed it wasn't offered she quickly returned her own to her lap.

"I don't think there's a stranger way for our paths to cross again," Oliver said in a stilted matter, rubbing at his neck. He looked just about as uncomfortable as she felt, and she took some solace in that.

"I can't think of one," Felicity offered nervously.

"Are you planning on having the baby?" Laurel interjected suddenly. Felicity started visibly at the question and Oliver quietly said, "Laurel, maybe we should start with something a little easier? Get to know each other."

"We don't need to get to know anyone," she said stubbornly. "What we need is a plan."

"Laurel-"

"Are you going to have the baby?" Laurel repeated.

"I haven't really thought about what I'm going to do," Felicity said slowly. "I mean, it's a pretty big decision. One I didn't see myself needing to make for a very long time. Like, years from now. Many, many years."

"I'm sorry, of course," Laurel said. "I…it's just this is very difficult for me. We've tried this three times already and it hasn't worked. And you just…" she trailed off, jaw clenching as she cast her eyes away from the woman having her husband's child. Oliver squeezed her knee gently.

"Whatever you decide, Laurel and I will support you fully," Oliver said. "We'll pay for your doctor visits, medication, everything."

"You don't have to do that –"

"Yes, we do," Oliver held. "We're part of the reason you're in this situation. And, if you do choose to having the baby, we would very much like to be a part of its life."

Felicity's mind spun as she considered all the options out in front of her. She knew his telling her that they would support her was supposed to make her feel better, but it only added to her anxiety. Now, whatever she chose, there would be two extra people affected.

"Thank you," she finally said. "I appreciate you both…supporting me."

"This is my card," Oliver said, pushing a small business card toward her. "My cell phone number is on it and I've written Laurel's on the back. You can call us anytime, any day. If you need anything, do not hesitate."

"Thank you."

With the pertinent information for the time being having been discussed, a lull of silence fell across the table. Oliver cleared his throat and said, "Would you like something to eat? I can have the kitchen whip you both something up."

"Oh, thanks, but I have class soon," Felicity said. "So, I probably should be going."

"Class? I thought you worked as a waitress," Laurel said.

"I do," Felicity said. "But only a few afternoons and nights a week. I'm a graduate student at University of Nevada."

A slow grin spread on Oliver's mouth. "What are you studying?"

"Computer networking," Felicity said. "And, I actually have class in about twenty minutes, so I should really…"

"Right, go," Oliver said, standing up. "We wouldn't want to make you late."

He walked around the table and extended his hand toward her. She hesitated for a moment before taking his hand. Electricity shot up through her hand, and they both pulled back, laughing slightly.

"Sorry," she said. "There must be static in here or something."

"Yeah, it must be that," he sad off-handedly.

"It was nice meeting both of you," Felicity said. "Or, I guess, meeting you," she gestured toward Laurel and then Oliver, "and _seeing _you. Since I already met you. When I fell asleep on your shoulder. And, _okay_, I'm going to leave now. I'll…"

She left without another word, Donna trailing behind her. She took her daughter's arm and asked, "Are you okay?"

"No," Felicity said, shaking her head. She glanced back at Oliver and Laurel outside of the private dining room. Laurel was saying something to him, her expression hinting that what she was saying was not particularly pleasant.

"I'm not okay at all."

**A/N: If you would like to see more of this, let me know in a review! **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: You guys are just amazing me with those reviews! Thank you!**

Chapter Two

Felicity stretched out in her bed and slipped her hand under her shirt. Her stomach was still flat. There wasn't even the slightest curve to hint at what was underneath. It was difficult for her to comprehend sometimes just how much she had changed. She felt the same. Looked the same. Sure, sometimes she got nauseous in the morning and the smell of bacon was pretty much a call to the bathroom, but for all intents and purposes she didn't seem different.

But, she was pregnant. That was different. She was pregnant with Oliver Queen's baby. That was…ridiculous. She still couldn't believe it sometimes. She'd hardly thought of him since that plane ride, but sometimes when she had trouble sleeping her mind would drift back to that packed plane and how soft his shirt had felt beneath her cheek.

She ran her thumb over her stomach slowly, willing herself to feel something, anything. Nine months from now she would be bringing another living being into the world, something should feel different. But it wasn't there. That feeling, that indiscriminate something that would tell her that, yes, she was pregnant, and yes, she should do…whatever it was she was supposed to do, it wasn't there.

Because she didn't know what to do about the pregnancy. The logical part of her told her to end it. She still had her entire life ahead of her. In one year she'd be starting her career and finding her place in the working world. She wouldn't be able to put in the hours necessary if she had a child. This wasn't the time to have a baby.

But there was another part of her, a large part, that spent time thinking about what her and Oliver's baby would look like, and what the theme for its first birthday will be, and whether it will have his eyes and her nose. But was curiosity enough to really go through with it?

Her bedroom door opened and she quickly pulled her hand out from under her shirt, slipping it behind her head.

"Honey, you want some pancakes?" Donna asked. "I have some on the griddle."

"I'm not hungry," Felicity told her.

"You need to eat. Remember, you're eating for two now."

"Believe me, I couldn't forget if I tried," Felicity muttered.

Donna walked into the room and sat on the end of Felicity's bed. "Are you still thinking it through?"

Felicity nodded. "It's difficult. I never thought I would be in this situation, and I don't really know how to make the decision. How can I make the decision?"

"You just have to do what's right for you," Donna said. "You didn't ask to be in this situation."

"No, I didn't," Felicity said softly. She laid her hand tentatively on her stomach. "But is that really its fault? This baby has a chance for a life. A good one, too. I think Oliver and Laurel, they'd be really good parents."

"So, you wouldn't consider keeping it?"

Felicity shook her head. "I'm not ready to be a mom. I can barely do my own laundry."

"I can attest to that," Donna deadpanned.

"If I have this baby, it will go to them. They can give it a life we couldn't."

Donna studied her daughter's face for a moment, wishing that she could give her the life she was describing. Their life wasn't terrible, but it wasn't something she would wish on her grandchildren. That was why she worked so hard and put in so many hours. It was so her daughter could have a better life, and then give a better life to her children. Donna kissed her daughter's forehead, smoothing her hair away from her face.

"Whatever you choose, I'll be there with you. I mean it, I'm with you until the end, babe."

Felicity scrunched her nose at that last part. "I hate when you say that."

"I know you do," Donna said. "But it's true."

* * *

><p>After a full morning of classes, Felicity dragged herself to the casino, gearing up for a long day of delivering drinks and fielding what drunken men called flattery. She didn't know if it was the pregnancy, but a weariness gripped her that made it an endeavor to even walk across the casino.<p>

"What is up with you?" Tamara asked her at the bar, noting the dark circles under her eyes. "You look like the walking dead."

"I'm exhausted," Felicity said evasively. Not knowing what she was going to do with her pregnancy, she'd chosen to keep it between her and her mother. "I was, um, up late studying. Exams are coming up."

"I don't know how you do it," Tamara said, shaking her head. "I'm beat after a night here, and I was sitting through classes all day."

"It's usually not that bad," she said. " Today's just…" she felt a wave of nausea and grabbed onto one the counter, leaning forward.

"You okay?" Tamara asked, laying a hand on her back.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I…" she rushed to the nearby wastebasket and emptied the contents of her stomach into the small bin.

"Maybe you should head home," Tamara said gently. "I can tell Hank you got sick."

"No, I'll be fine," Felicity said. "I think it's just something I ate for lunch. I had a weird enchilada thing. Really, I'm fine."

Her stomach had been settling, but it rolled uncomfortably at the mention of food. She secretly bookmarked the fact that food and morning sickness – even just the mention of food – did not mix.

"I should head out there," Felicity said, swallowing hard. The taste of vomit burned her throat. "These drinks aren't going to deliver themselves."

* * *

><p>"Oliver, I need to talk to you," Laurel said, walking into Oliver's office. She closed the double doors behind her. "I told your secretary to not let anyone disturb us, unless it's absolutely necessary."<p>

Oliver looked up from his pile of paperwork. Laurel had done this on other occasions, for less than honorable reasons, and while he typically enjoyed the midday release, he didn't have time for it today.

"Laurel, look, I'm really swamped."

"I wanted to talk to you about Felicity Smoak," she said.

That got his attention.

"You want to talk about Felicity," he repeated.

"That's what I said," Laurel returned somewhat irritably, beginning to pace in front of his desk. "I was thinking about everything that happened, and I don't know, something feels off."

"Off?"

Laurel nodded. "She just shows up at the hospital the same day we are there. She just _happens _to get accidentally inseminated with your sperm."

Oliver nodded. "Yes, I'm aware of all of this. I was actually there when Dr. Lerman told us all about it."

"Oliver, be serious," Laurel sighed.

"I am being serious. Are you? Because it sounds like you're suggesting that Felicity purposely got herself artificially inseminated. Which is crazy."

"No, t's not," Laurel pressed. "Think about it, she knows you. She knows you have money and esteem. Her and her mother are struggling to make ends meet."

"Laurel, listen to yourself," Oliver said. "This is ridiculous."

"Why are you so resistant to this? It's not ridiculous. It's actually pretty damn logical," she said, walking forward and planting her hands on the desk. "What is a better cash cow than having a billionaire's baby? Think of all the money you're planning on throwing at her. Huh? Just think about it, Oliver."

"Okay," he said slowly. "To start with, I am not throwing money at anyone. I will be providing for my child –"

"That's what I meant," she sighed irritably.

"And if they really needed quick cash, this isn't the best scheme. They have to wait a whole nine months to really get the payoff. She'll practically be done by grad school by then. And Felicity…" he trailed off, thinking about how uncomfortable she seemed when they met at his casino, how small she looked, "… she wouldn't do what you're saying."

"Oh, because you know her so well," Laurel returned snidely. "Oliver, you don't know her. You met her on a plane, maybe you guys bonded a little, but you have no idea what she is truly like. And I don't trust that mother of hers. She seems like she's up to something."

"I know I don't know her very well, but I'm telling you, she's not capable of something so nefarious," Oliver held. "She's just not."

"Why don't we have her take a lie detector test or something," Laurel proposed.

Oliver gave her an irritable look, thinking how much work he was not doing to have this inane conversation.

"This isn't the Maury show, Laurel. We don't just have lie detector tests at our disposal."

"How do we even know it is your sperm?" Laurel pressed. "She could be in cahoots with the doctor. They could have even faked the pregnancy test! They could have you pay for an abortion that never happens. They – "

"Laurel," Oliver said loudly, startling his wife to the extent that she stumbled backwards, a stricken look on her face. "I understand that this is difficult for you, but facts are facts. Felicity is pregnant. She did not devise it. She did not scheme. It is an unfortunate accident, and I am sorry. I am so sorry that this has happened to us – to you – but the correct way to handle this is not to blame Felicity. She didn't want this to happen any more than we did."

Laurel faltered, her bottom lip trembling. "I just…I wanted that to be our baby. We deserve a baby."

She began to cry and Oliver stood up from his desk, walking around it to hug his wife, inwardly chastising himself for being so harsh. What she had been saying was ridiculous, but it came from a place of real pain. He knew how much Laurel wanted to have a baby, and it must be incredibly painful for her to watch another woman have his child.

"It's not our time, Laurel," Oliver said, rubbing her back. "But it will be. We will have our time."

"It's not fair," she murmured against his neck. "It's not fair, Ollie."

"I know it's not. But this could turn into something good. She could give us a baby – our baby."

"But I won't be the mother," Laurel said. "Not really."

Oliver pulled away slightly so he could see her face. "A mother is more than biology, Laurel. It's someone who loves you. Who takes care of you. Who is there for you, no matter what."

"Can you see me being that for someone?" Laurel asked, voice small.

Oliver smiled softly, smoothing her hair away from her face. "Yes, I can. I definitely can."

* * *

><p>Hank assigned Felicity in the high roller areas during her shift, and she walked around with her waitress smile plastered on her face, taking orders and delivering drinks. One would think the high rollers would be better behaved than their penny slot counterparts, but one would be incorrect in that thought. It was as if they expected some inappropriate conduct with the price of their high stakes gambling.<p>

Felicity didn't know if it was her usual low tolerance for bullshit, or the fact that the body they were pawing now had a baby growing inside of it, but she found herself particularly immune to the rich men's charms.

She'd just taken an order when one of the men playing craps grabbed her waist, pulling her onto his lap.

"How about you blow my dice for me, sweets?" the guy said, holding up his pair of dice with an obvious leer.

"Believe me, I'm not good luck," she told him tightly.

"Now, I don't believe that for a second. You look like my lucky charm."

"Well, look again," she said, gritting her teeth. The dealer was giving her a look, clearly telling her to just blow on the damn dice so the game could go on, but for some reason she just couldn't do it.

"You're mouthy," the man said, laughing. He squeezed her waist and she jumped. "That's not always a bad thing."

"I should get back to my drinks," she said.

"Are you really going to leave me hanging like this? I have 10,000 dollars on this roll."

Before she could stop herself she said, "That sounds like a you problem."

The dealer sounded like he choked on something and he quickly said, "Alright, let's throw those dice."

Her rich man, who previously had been all games and laughs, narrowed his eyes at her and held the dice up to her mouth, ordering, "Blow. Or I swear on your small, meaningless life that you will never show your face in this casino again."

She knew she should just blow on the damn dice. It really wasn't that big of a deal. She'd been propositioned with worse. At least this was something in public. But she found herself suddenly tired. She was tired of the harassment. She was tired of the fake smiles. She was tired of being at the bottom with absolutely no chance of ever moving up.

So, she drove her heel down into his foot to get him to release his grip on her, and she jumped down from his lap, glaring at him with every bit of her 5'4 frame, and hissed, "Fuck you."

She stalked off to the back bar, dread filling her the farther she got from the room. She just royally fucked up.

* * *

><p>"You do realized that you disrespected one of the casino's most powerful investors," her boss Hank said, wiping at his eyes wearily as he spoke. "What in the world possessed you to do that?"<p>

"He was harassing me," she tried, knowing it wouldn't get her far. "He pulled me up on his lap and then was forcing me to blow on his dice. It was barbaric."

"It's the job," Hank said harshly. "This isn't waitressing at the Ritz. You ladies know what you're getting yourselves into."

"Did you ever think it shouldn't be that way?" Felicity returned heatedly. "Like, maybe you shouldn't have to worry where you'll be inappropriately touched every day?"

"That may be nice and dandy in your fantasy world, Felicity, but this is the real word. You offended an investor here, and he has demanded your removal."

Felicity sniffed, wringing her hands in her lap. "Of course he did. And you have to comply."

"This is the way the world works, Felicity. You don't piss of the people on top."

"So, I'm fired," she asked pointedly.

"Yes," he said after a moment. "You're fired effectively immediately."

"No two week notice? You're not even going to give me a chance to find another placement?"

"Your contract stipulates that your employment may be terminated at any time for any reason," Hank said.

Felicity nodded, thinking that maybe she should have just blown on that idiot's dice. But somehow, somewhere deep inside, she knew that was never an option.

"What about my mom?" she asked. "Will this impact her employment, too?"

"No," she said, shaking his head. "As long as she doesn't take a page out of her daughter's playbook, her job is safe."

"She won't," Felicity said. Only she was reckless enough to do what she had done.

* * *

><p>Felicity wandered around the strip after being fired, not wanting to go home but not really knowing where to go in its place. She found herself in line at Pink's hotdogs, ordering herself one with all the fixings and then sitting at a table corner. She was surrounded by families and groups, all of them talking raucously as they scarfed down the famous hotdogs. She was the only person by herself.<p>

And then Oliver Queen was standing in front of her table.

"Can I join you?" he asked.

"Yeah, of course," she said, gesturing for him to sit down.

"Thank you," he said, sitting down. "I see you got the classic Pink's hotdog. Solid choice."

"It's the only real way to order," Felicity answered easily. "Although, I have to say, it didn't go down quite as smoothly as it used to."

He frowned. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah," she said quickly. "It's not…it's just some food doesn't agree with me anymore. It's not a big deal, though. It's manageable."

He nodded. "Okay. You would tell me if something was really wrong, right?"

"Of course I would," she said immediately. "I mean, it's your baby."

"So, how are you? With everything?"

Felicity took a deep breath, leaning forward and resting her forearms on the table. "Well, it's difficult. And it's got even more difficult considering I was just fired from my job."

"You what?" Oliver asked. "What happened?"

She shook her head, thinking how ridiculous the entire thing was. But Oliver pressed, asking her again to tell him what happened.

"I wouldn't blow on someone's dice."

Oliver stared at her. "Excuse me?"

"It was one of the casino's investors. He was playing craps and asked me to blow on his dice. I didn't want to."

"And they fired you."

"I just couldn't do it. He'd pulled me into his lap, and all of it was jus so wrong, and when he asked me to blow on the dice, I don't know…"

"You couldn't do it," Oliver finished.

"It's stupid," Felicity said, shaking his head. "I lost a paying job because I wouldn't blow on someone's dice. People are fighting for jobs, and I give mine up for such a stupid reason."

"It's not stupid," Oliver told her. "That guy sounds like a pig. And if your boss was willing to fire you over it, well, that doesn't sound like a place you should work at."

"He's not that bad," Felicity said. "My boss, I mean. He was just protecting his own job. I'm sure if he kept me on, he would have heard from that investor."

"Still, it's not right what he did to you."

Felicity took a sip of her soda. "Thanks."

He was quiet for a moment and then asked, "Why don't you work at my casino?"

Now it was her turn to be confused. "Excuse me?"

"I promise I won't make you be a cocktail waitress," he said. "And I'd get to see you more."

"You-you want to see me more?" she stammered.

"If you're going to be having my child, then yes," he said with a small laugh. Recognizing what he said, he quickly added, "Not that you have to. I mean, if you don't, the job would still be yours."

"I don't know, I'd feel bad," she said uncomfortably.

"Why? I own the place. Jobs are literally mine to hand out. In fact, we have an opening for a hostess in our flagship restaurant. You'd be perfect for that."

"I probably should add that I sassed the investor," she said in a small voice.

Oliver laughed. "I think the investor probably deserved it. Would you promise not to unnecessarily sass customers?"

Felicity shrugged. "That seems reasonable."

"Then, come work as our hostess. I insist."

"Are you sure?" she asked, thinking this was just all too easy. It wasn't every day you lost one job and got another within the hour.

"Yes, nothing would make me happier."

She thought about it for another moment before saying, "Okay. I'll take the job."

* * *

><p>That night she lay in bed, hand resting on her flat stomach again. She curled her hand into a fist and then flattened it on her stomach, brushing her fingers against her belly button.<p>

"I know you probably can't hear me," she said softly. "Because you don't have ears yet. But, um, today was pretty crazy. I sassed a casino investor and lost my job. And then I ended up getting an even better job an hour later. I also ate a meal without vomiting. Which, believe it or not, is quite the feat for the past few days." She paused for a moment. "The guy who gave me the job is your dad. You don't know him yet, but he's a pretty amazing guy. Not too hard to look at either. I hope you get his eyes. He has really nice eyes."

She fell silent, listening to the sounds of the house creaking as she ran her thumb over her stomach. And then she felt it. If someone asked her, she wouldn't be able to really describe what she felt. It wasn't a kick – it was way too early for that – or even a flip or a turn. It was just a feeling. A sense that she wasn't alone.

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed this! Felicity moving over to the Queen Casino will allow for more O/F interaction - so get excited!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: You guys are just amazing me with those reviews! Thank you!**

Chapter Three

Felicity stepped into the shower, turning around and tipping her head back into the warm stream of water. There was something about a morning shower that always set her day in the right direction. Those few minutes of silence were sometimes all she got throughout the busy day. Running from class to work and then sometimes back to class didn't really leave time for much quiet introspection. Just as she reached toward her shampoo the water turned ice cold. She yelped, jumping toward the edge of the shower.

So much for starting her day off nicely.

She considered trying to quickly wash her hair – she was going three days now with her previous blowout – but when she nudged her foot forward the water was so cold that she pulled her foot back immediately. That quick wash wasn't happening.

"Mom," she called out, towel wrapped tightly around her. The air conditioning was blasting and she shivered as the cool air hit her skin. "Mom, did you pay the water bill this month?"

"Of course I did," Donna said, padding out of her bedroom. She looked at her daughter's wet hair and the towel wrapped around her. "Wait, it looks like you showered."

"I tried," Felicity said. "The hot water turned off. It's ice cold."

"That wouldn't be a bill thing, sweetie," Donna said, walking past her into the bathroom. She turned on the faucet and turned it to hot, holding her hand under the running stream of water. "Huh, that's strange. There must be something wrong with our pipes."

"So, we don't have hot water until…"

"I can get someone out here," Donna finished. She saw her daughter's disgruntled look and said, "Well, what did you expect? This looks like a plumbing problem, so we need-"

"A plumber, I know," Felicity said. "It's just, today's my first day of work at the restaurant, and I wanted to make a good impression."

"The man who hired you is the father of your child," Donna said. "I don't think he'll care what your hair looks like."

"It looks like I don't shower," Felicity said pointedly. "I think he will care if it looks like the _mother of his child_ doesn't have good hygiene."

"Just throw your hair up in a ponytail and throw on some makeup. No one will be the wiser."

"I guess you're right," Felicity sighed, beginning to turn toward her room. "Don't forget to call the plumber before you leave for work. You know, I can look up some numbers for you."

"I think I'm going to call Billy," Donna said.

Felicity stopped, turning back toward her unhappily. Billy was a guy that Donna occasionally dated, and he termed himself a jack of all trades. What he considered dabbling in a variety of interests Felicity read as him not being able to hold down a decent job. There wasn't a business in town who hadn't fired or turned away Billy Hapner.

"Mom, do not call him," Felicity implored. "Get a real plumber."

"He is a real plumber," Donna said. "He worked at Gary's Plumbing last June."

"Does he work there now?"

"Well-"

"Get a real plumber," Felicity told her. "Knowing Billy he'll break our water main or something."

"You're so dramatic."

Felicity cocked her head to the side. "No, I'm just remembering that time you had him fix our refrigerator and we had to throw out an entire grocery shopping's worth of food. And that time he was supposed to fix our cable, but instead turned on the Spanish subtitles, which we _still_ haven't been able to get rid of."

"We've learned a lot of valuable Spanish from that," Donna pointed out weakly.

"Call a real plumber," Felicity said.

"Fine," Donna sighed.

"Good, now I need to get dressed for school," Felicity said, turning toward her room. As she closed the door she heard Donna say, "It can't hurt to have Billy just look at the pipes."

Felicity groaned.

* * *

><p>After her two morning classes Felicity ate a quick lunch and then got on the bus to take her down to the strip. It was a bit of a hike – twenty or thirty minutes depending on traffic – and she grabbed her favorite spot in the back, settling against the window and pulling out her book. She was engrossed in the characters' adventures when the bus pulled to a stop and a young couple sat in front of them. The woman held a baby who looked to be about a year, give or take. Felicity never was good at approximating age in children. She wondered if that would change when she had her own.<p>

The thought took her by surprise, just like all the other times her thoughts idly wandered to what was growing inside of her. It had been happening more since she sensed her baby. Or at least she thought she sensed it. For all she knew it was indigestion. But somehow, somewhere deep inside, she knew it had been real. There was a little person growing inside of her, and that had to mean something.

She tried to go back to her book but her gaze kept shifting to the mother and her child. The baby had its little head nestled in the crook of the woman's neck, its hand curled around a bunch of the woman's shirt. She seemed almost unaware of the baby clutching to her, arms wrapped casually around the baby, one hand running along its back in a way that seemed almost unintentional as she spoke to her husband.

The baby made a small mewling noise, smacking its lips as it squirmed against its mother. Felicity watched as the father reached over and gently caressed the baby's head. Placated, the baby curled into its mother's neck again.

Suddenly, Felicity imagined her and Oliver in the same position. She was struck by such a longing that it made her chest ache.

She was relieved when her stop came up. Standing abruptly she startled the couple, who looked back at her in surprise.

"Sorry, it's…it's my stop," she stammered. The baby awoke, and looked up at her with wide groggy eyes. It reached up for her, but she dodged its hand. Swallowing hard she hurried off the bus, nausea gripping her. She made it to the trashcan just in time, emptying the contents of her stomach.

"Isn't it a little early for that?" someone jeered behind her.

She pulled back from the bin, running her hand along her mouth. Setting her taunter with a steely glare she hissed, "I'm not drunk. I'm pregnant, you asshole."

Before she heard his response she was off toward the Queen casino, hoping that her stomach would behave for the next few hours. She walked into the casino, casting her gaze around the main floor. Spending so much time at one casino for work, she found herself with little desire to explore any of the others. The Queen casino was much like the others – opulent game rooms and dinging machines – but there was something about it that felt more inviting than the others. She couldn't put her finger on what it was exactly, but it put her at ease.

She walked to the restaurant, smoothing down the skirt of her dress. Oliver had told her to wear some sort of dress for her hostess duties. Figuring she couldn't go wrong with black, she'd gone for a lacy number that hit just above her knees. She wore it with turquoise dangle earrings that worked especially well with her hair, which was now piled on the top of her head thanks to her unfortunate shower experience.

She wasn't sure if Oliver was meeting her, and she stepped into the restaurant, glancing around.

"Are you Felicity Smoak?" a voice asked.

She turned, eyes landing on a tall woman. She was dressed in what she could only assume was the restaurant uniform. It was an emerald green dress that set off her bright red hair.

"Hi," Felicity said. "I mean, yes. I'm me. That's me. Felicity."

"Thank God they finally hired someone," the woman said. "Sandra left about a month ago. They said it was for personal reasons, and you know what means."

Felicity stared at her. "I…don't actually think I do."

The woman held down one nostril and made a snorting action. Felicity's eyes widened. "Oh. That's…really?"

The woman nodded. "It was never said outright, but we all knew. No one gets that many nose bleeds without something going in it. Anyway, I had to pull double duty all this time, which was the worst. If I had to hear one person try to convince me they made reservations when they didn't…" she took a deep breath, "…anyway, you're here so it doesn't matter. I'm Lydia."

Felicity nodded, thinking to herself that she'd never met someone who threw so much at a person at once. It was jarring, to say the least, and it would have been off putting if Lydia didn't emanate a certain sense of warmness. It reminded her a bit of her mother.

"It's very nice to meet you," Felicity said.

"Okay, so, this is your home base," Lydia said, pointing toward the wide podium set at the front of the restaurant. "The job is pretty straightforward. People make reservations by either calling or open table. They get plugged into the computer, and you pull them off from there."

Felicity nodded, already turning toward the computer and itching to work her way through the programs.

"You also will have to log in the tables. You'll just go in and assign certain reservations to certain tables. You give the table number to the waitress or waiter, and they'll know what to do. Now, to get into the program – "

Felicity had already started typing, effortlessly flipping between the programs.

"Wow, you learn fast. Without me even having to tell you anything. I like you already."

Felicity laughed. "I'm good with computers."

"So, I think that's all I have for you," she said. "If you have any questions, just find me. You shouldn't have too much trouble. The douchebags don't usually show up until after nine, and the schedule said you're off at eight, so you'll just miss them."

"What a shame," Felicity joked.

Lydia grinned, setting Felicity with an appraising look. "Yeah, I definitely think I'm going to like you. Welcome to the team, Felicity."

She mirrored her grin, nodding. "Thank you, Lydia."

* * *

><p>Oliver went to check on Felicity at her new job during the lull right before dinner. She was playing around on the computer, clicking and typing when he approached. Sensing his presence, she turned around with a bright grin and said, "Welcome to Lowry's, what…" she trailed off when she saw it was him, eyes going just a bit wider than normal. "Oliver. Hi."<p>

He grinned. "Hello Felicity."

His eyes went back to the computer and when he didn't recognize the screen he asked, "What are you up to over there?"

"Oh, nothing," she said quickly. "I just…I had some time, so I was working on optimizing your tabling program."

"Excuse me?" he said.

"The way it was configured wasn't the most efficient," she said. " So, I just went in and tweaked a few things. It should keep the computer from freezing up. I also streamlined the search function for finding open tables."

He was quiet and she tentatively asked, "You don't mind, right?"

"No, of course not," he said. "That's amazing. I feel like we need to raise your pay now."

She grinned. "Not necessary. Just consider it a fringe benefit to my hiring."

"Well, it's appreciated. So, how is your first day doing?"

"It's good," she said. "Thank you again for the job. I…I don't really think I can thank you enough."

"It's my pleasure. I'm sorry I didn't check in sooner. Tommy cajoled me into playing him in a game of tennis."

"Tommy?"

"Oh, sorry," Oliver said. "Tommy is my best friend. Business partner, too."

She nodded. "He must be pretty wonderful, then. To be your best friend, I mean."

"He's great," Oliver said. It was strange to think she didn't know Tommy, or even met him. There was something about her that felt like she'd been in his life forever, and he found himself often having to remind himself that it had really only been a few weeks.

She noticed that his hair was wet and said, "You know, that's a good way to catch a cold in all this air conditioning. At least that's what my mom used to tell me when I wanted to go to school with wet hair."

Oliver laughed, a hand going up to his damp scalp. "I came here straight from the shower."

Felicity's face went dreamy at the mention of a shower.

"A shower," she said in a nostalgic voice. "Now, that sounds fantastic."

Oliver laughed. "Do you not come upon them often or something? Because, correct me if I'm wrong, but you usually seem fairly clean."

She grinned. "No, we have a shower. It just isn't working as of late. There's something up with our pipes."

"You can use Laurel and my room here, if you'd like. We have a pretty nice shower. It's not special or anything, but it gets the job done."

"You live here?" she asked in surprise.

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Isn't it weird to live at your workplace?"

He shrugged. "I mean, I'm living in a penthouse. It's not exactly rough living. And I actually like being here all the time. Things always come up, and it's nice that I can just take the elevator down and take care of whatever it is."

"It's sounds convenient," Felicity offered, feeling bad for questioning his living arrangement. It really wasn't her business.

"I don't know if I'd want to stay here long-term," he said. "But for now – with the casino so new – it works."

"You're really dedicated," she said. "It's nice to see."

"This casino was my dream," Oliver said. "My family's in real estate, and when I told them I wanted to build a casino they thought I was insane. It's a risky business, and most out here don't last, but I had a vision and I went for it."

"The casino is beautiful," she told him. "You did a wonderful job."

"Thank you, I appreciate that. Anyway, if you want to use the shower it's yours."

"A shower does sound really wonderful," she said. "Are you sure you and Laurel don't mind?"

"Not a bit." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a keycard. "Here you go. Just head up when you're done here."

She looked down at the keycard in his hand. "Wait, don't you need this?"

"I'll have another made up," he said casually.

"Are you sure this isn't too much of an intrusion?" she asked, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "I'm sure our pipes will be fixed soon." She thought of her mother's comment on having Billy look at them. "Soon-ish."

"It's not an intrusion in the slightest," Oliver assured her. "The shower is yours, if you want it."

She nodded, curling her fingers around the cardkey. "Thank you."

* * *

><p>When she was finished working she went to the elevators and took it up to the penthouse. The elevator opened directly into the living quarters, and she walked in slowly, taking in the large room. It was like walking into a Parisian paradise, all gilded furniture and whimsy. The rest of the hotel was fairly modern, but she vaguely remembered Oliver telling her that the penthouses all had different themes.<p>

She walked forward slowly, calling out, "Hello? Is anyone here?"

When she was met with no answer, she took some time to explore. The penthouse was twice the size of her apartment, and she wondered just how two people – one of whom worked most hours of the day – made use of so much space. After a minor exploration she told herself that she should get to the showering.

It didn't occur to her until then that she would have to go through the bedroom to get to the shower. While walking through the living room had felt like nothing more than innocent curiosity, walking through the bedroom felt downright voyeuristic. She tentatively stepped in, eyes landing directly on the bed.

"Just go to the bathroom, Felicity," she told herself firmly, forcing her gaze in the direction of the bathroom and then walking forward. She knew Oliver was the one who invited her, but he and Laurel deserved some semblance of privacy. When she walked into the bathroom she gasped softly. There were showers and then there were _showers_.

It had several different knobs, most of which she didn't have the slightest idea what they did. Instead of her old rusted showerhead there was a large gleaming one with a speckled dial that she could only hoped controlled the water pressure. Quickly undressing she murmured, "Shower, I may never want to leave you."

By the end of her shower she had used just about ever knob and dial and spent such a long time under the steady stream of water that she'd steamed up all the windows, and steam hung in the air like fog. She reluctantly turned off the water, stepping out and wrapping herself in the fluffiest towel she'd ever encountered. She sat on the edge of the tub, thinking of her good fortune and just how wonderful a good shower made you feel, when she heard someone walk into the apartment.

She froze, panic gripping her, but then reminded herself that Oliver had given her the key, and he assured her Laurel would be okay with it all. Everything was fine. She rose from the tub, trying to move as quietly as she could toward her clothes, when she heard an unfamiliar male voice.

"Okay, Laurel, what is it that made you bring me all the way up here?" he said.

Laurel didn't respond.

"Are we just going to stand here in silence? Because I left a very attractive blonde for this."

"For the love of God, can you not think about getting laid for a second?" Laurel snapped.

"That's harsh. Even for you. What is going on?"

"Remember last month? At the Bellagio?"

"Of course I remember," he said tightly. "But we both decided it was a mistake. We were drunk. You were upset from your visit with Dr. Lerman. We both agreed it would never happen again."

"You think I don't know that?" Laurel hissed. "I love my husband."

"Why are we even talking about this? It was a mistake. We both agreed. Let's just keep going on like it didn't happen."

"I would, except for the fact I'm pregnant."

"You're what?"

"Yeah. That puts a wrench in the whole pretend it never happened thing, right?"

"You're pregnant?" the man stammered.

"That's what three tests told me."

"Are you sure it isn't Oliver's?"

"We haven't had sex in weeks," Laurel sighed. "Believe me, I wish we had."

Felicity could hear someone begin to pace. From the sound of rubbing fabric, she assumed it wasn't Laurel.

"This is bad. This is very bad."

"You think I don't know that, Tommy?"

Felicity's heart slammed against her chest. Tommy? Wasn't that Oliver's best friend?

"We have to do something," Tommy said. "We have to…"

"Have to what?" Laurel pressed.

"I don't know!" Tommy all but yelled. "But, this can't happen. This – Oliver can't know about this. He'll kill me."

"Well, what do you suggest?" she said. "He's going to have questions when I'm suddenly pregnant."

"You wouldn't…" Tommy trailed off.

"No, I'm keeping this baby," Laurel held firmly. "All I've wanted for the past year is to be pregnant. I dreamed for it, prayed for it – and I'm not even religious. I've wanted this for too long to throw it away."

"Then what are we going to do?"

There was silence for a stretch and Felicity leaned toward the door, waiting for Laurel's answer. When she got it, a sick feeling spread through her chest.

"I need to sleep with my husband."

"Laurel-"

"All I need is one time. Then I can tell him I'm pregnant, and we can finally have the child we deserve."

"My child," Tommy said. "You can have my child."

"What did you expect, Tommy? That the three of us would ride into the sunset together? I love Oliver."

"I know that. But do you expect me to just sit back and watch another man raise my child?"

"That's exactly what you will do," Laurel said harshly. "Unless you want to tell him that you slept with his wife."

"This isn't fair."

Laurel was quiet for a moment and then said, "It never is, Tommy."

A phone went off, and for a staggering moment Felicity thought it was hers. To her relief, she heard Laurel answer the phone.

"This is Laurel Queen. Yes, I will be right there. Thank you."

"Laurel, this isn't over."

"Yes, it is," Laurel said. "You tell Oliver anything and your friendship will be ruined forever. I know you Tommy, and you won't risk that."

She was met with silence, and she said, "I have to go. You can see yourself out."

Felicity heard movement and then the door opened and closed. A few moments later, it opened and closed again. Felicity stayed rooted to her spot on the edge of the tub, the gravity of what she just overhead setting in. She would have never believed this before, but her life just got more complicated.

**A/N: Big stuff happened in this one! Let me know what you think!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Here's a little early Christmas gift for all of you! I hope you enjoy!**

Chapter Four

Felicity sat in the kitchen, feet propped up on the windowsill, watching rain pelt the window. The rain left little droplets on the glass that inched their way down like teardrops. It hadn't rained for a good six or seven months, and people reacted like it was a hurricane. Her commute to work took twice as long, and even her early start left her walking into the classroom a good twenty minutes late. It didn't really matter, though. She wouldn't be hearing what the teacher was saying anyway.

No matter where she was, who she was with, all she could hear was Tommy and Laurel's voices.

_"All I need is one time. Then I can tell him I'm pregnant, and we can finally have the child we deserve."_

_ "My child. You can have my child."_

She'd run from the bathroom as quickly as she could after Tommy left. Her hair sopping wet and dress sticking to her still damp skin. She didn't care. All she could think about was getting as far from that room as possible. Maybe with some distance she could rationalize what she heard. Maybe it wasn't as bad as it sounded.

But it was. It was just as bad as it sounded, maybe even worse when she thought about what Laurel wanted to do and its ramifications. She could just imagine how elated Oliver would be with the fabricated news. A baby. Exactly what they'd wanted for so long. It would be finally happening, and he would be ecstatic, and it would all be a lie.

And then what about her? What about his other baby, growing inside of her? Would he care anymore with his actual wife pregnant? Felicity knew that part of what made her pregnancy so special was that her child was the one that Laurel and Oliver had wanted for so long. What happened when that wasn't the case anymore?

"Sweetheart, you look like you've never seen rain before," Donna teased, pulling a chair from the kitchen table and setting it beside her daughter.

"It's been a while," Felicity noted. "I missed it. I like the rain."

"I know you do," Donna said. "You always said it helped you think."

Felicity nodded, tilting her head to the side. "Yeah, it does."

"So, what are you thinking about?"

Felicity took a deep breath. "I heard something yesterday. In Oliver's bathroom."

"What were you doing in Oliver's bathroom?"

"I told him about our shower situation, and he offered me his and Laurel's shower. I took him up on the offer, and when I got out…" she trailed off, pressing her lips together. "I heard something. Something bad."

Donna gently asked, "It wasn't about you, was it?"

Felicity shook her head. "No, it had nothing to do with me."

"Then what was it?"

Part of Felicity felt like she was betraying Oliver by telling Donna what happened. Shouldn't he be the first to know? He was the one who was going to be unwittingly entrapped into paying for and raising another man's child. But, the fact of the matter was that she couldn't tell him yet. Not before really thinking it through, and she needed her mom for that. She couldn't do this on her own.

With a sigh she turned toward her mom and told her the entire story. She told her about Tommy and Laurel, and how Tommy was Oliver's best friend and Laurel planned to trick Oliver into thinking that the baby was his. She started slowly, but then it just spilled out of her, like water bursting through a dam. She couldn't stop. It was only the facts and then she was telling Donna about her fears and what it meant for her, even though she knew this wasn't about her, and suddenly she couldn't breathe, her head between her legs, feet pressing hard against the windowsill.

"Hey, just breathe," Donna said, rubbing her daughter's back. "Just breathe, Felicity."

She tried, but she couldn't seem to catch her breath enough to get a good inhale in. Donna left for a moment and then she was back, handing her a brown paper lunch bag.

"Breathe into it," Donna instructed. When Felicity fumbled with the bag Donna put it to her mouth herself, telling her, "Breathe into it, Felicity. Yes, just like that. In and out. In and out."

When she got the rhythm of it Felicity took the bag into her own hand, raggedly inhaling and exhaling. Eventually her breathing came back to normal and she brought the paper bag down to her lap, feeling like she'd hit rock bottom, but knowing there was much farther for her to fall.

"I don't know what to do," Felicity gasped. "I have no idea."

"What does your gut tell you?"

Felicity leaned her head back against the chair. "I don't know. My gut says a lot of things that probably aren't right."

"What is it saying?"

"To tell him," Felicity admitted. "But, is it really my business? It's their marriage."

"It is," Donna agreed softly. "And, you don't really know him that well. Know them well."

"Mom, she's pregnant with his best friend's baby," Felicity said. "I don't think I have to know any of them that well to see how messed up that is."

"All I am saying, is if you aren't going to have much contact with them past this, then it might not be your place to say something," Donna said. "I know you haven't decided what you're doing-"

"I'm having the baby," Felicity said firmly.

Donna looked at her in surprise. "You are?"

Felicity nodded.

"When did you decide this?"

"I don't really know," Felicity said. It was somewhere between that night in her bedroom and her mom and her at the windowsill, but the decision was made. "I'm having this baby."

"And you're…" Donna asked leadingly.

"The plan was to give it to Oliver and Laurel," Felicity said. "I mean, this was supposed to be their baby. I didn't want this. They did. But, I feel like this changes everything. Best case scenario, I don't tell Oliver and the baby grows up in a house pretty much built on lies. Or, I do tell him, and it grows up in a broken home. Either way, it's awful. This entire thing is awful. What do I do?"

"I can't make this decision for you," Donna said gently. "But, if I were you, I'd tell him."

"You would?" Felicity asked anxiously.

"If you plan to give this baby to them then you have an interest in their marriage. You want it to grow up in a good environment. One where it can grow and flourish."

"Not one where it finds out that its brother or sister isn't even related to it?" Felicity joked darkly.

"I know this isn't going to be easy, but I think you'd be doing the right thing telling him."

Felicity exhaled loudly, pulling her knees into her chest. "That is not going to be a fun conversation."

"No, it's not," Donna agreed. "But you can do it. You've always been so strong, babe. You can do this."

Felicity knew she could. It was whether she really wanted to that was the issue. But the more she thought about it, the more she knew she had tell him. This wasn't one of those little truths she was better keeping to herself. It was a big truth. One that had the possibility of altering the very foundation of his marriage. So, she decided to tell him. If only she could actually get him to stop running around for a moment and listen to her.

While Las Vegas wasn't exactly a religious destination, it fell prey to the same holiday hoopla as any other popular vacation destination. In the weeks leading up to Christmas, hotel management ran themselves dry with preparations and planning. All the casinos were competing against each other, which meant they all were trying to one up each other. Felicity was accustomed to the increased hustle and bustle, having worked many a holidays, which meant she wasn't surprised when Oliver was busy. She barely saw him, and then when she did it was only a quick hello as he rushed off to whatever meeting he had scheduled.

"You haven't told him yet?" Donna said.

"What am I supposed to do?" Felicity complained. "I only see him in passing, and that's not exactly something you yell at someone as they walk by."

Donna smirked at the image. "No, no it's not."

"And I'm afraid to try to set a time with him because he'll think there's something wrong with the baby and freak out."

"You could just tell him up front that it's not about the baby," Donna offered. "Say it's related to work or something. Anything to get him to meet with you."

Felicity frowned. "Hasn't he been lied to enough in the past few weeks?"

"In the scheme of lies, babe, that one would be pretty negligible."

She knew her mother was right, but still she waited. This was something that needed to be told at the right time and in the right way. Life altering news couldn't be rushed. So, she waited. She pushed it to the side for the sake of its delivery, all the while knowing what it was really about. She didn't want to be the one to ruin Laurel and Oliver's marriage. Logically, she knew it wouldn't really be her. She was not the one who slept with his best friend, but still she was afraid that Oliver would never see her the same way. She'd be the person who ruined not one – but two – relationships for him.

Christmas came around, and she still hadn't found the time or gumption to tell him. They'd had little interaction after what she'd heard in the bathroom. That was why she was surprised when her phone rang and his name flashed on the screen. It was about four o'clock, and she was working on some reading for class the next day.

"Oliver, hi," she said, wondering why he was calling and if it was good or bad.

"Are you busy? You sound busy."

She smiled a bit. "No, just doing some reading for class. I could use a short break, though."

"I promise to be brief," he returned. She could hear the smile in his voice. "The casino's having a holiday party tonight and I wanted to invite you."

"Oh."

"I know it's last minute," he said. "But it should be a good time. Tommy planned it, and his parties are always something to talk about."

Felicity swallowed hard, thinking that there were other Tommy creations that were something to talk about, as well. Namely the child growing inside of Oliver's wife.

"I'll be there," Felicity said abruptly. She had class early the next day, and a party full of people she didn't know without some liquid courage sounded like the worst thing ever, but she still said yes.

"Okay, great," Oliver said. "Laurel and I are having a quick dinner before if you want to join us."

Felicity's head ached. "I don't think I can make dinner. But, um, the party I can do."

"Great. Alright, then I will see you there. It's at Lowry's. Just give the hostess your name, you're on the list."

"I've always wanted to be on a list," she noted softly.

He chuckled. "It starts at eight."

"I will be there," she said. "I'll see you tonight. Bye Oliver."

"Good bye, Felicity."

* * *

><p>She showed up a few minutes after eight o'clock in a bright red shift dress she paired with emerald green drop earrings and matching shoes. Donna told her she looked like an elf when she left, to which she replied it was a perfectly acceptable look for a holiday party.<p>

Lowry's was decorated for the event with garland everywhere and several large Christmas trees. Snowflake cutouts hung from the ceiling, and she even spotted a makeshift snowman in the corner that people were posing with for photos. Felicity thought to herself that this holiday party seemed to be leaning heavily in a particular direction.

"Merry Christmas!" someone said loudly beside her. She offered the man a cautious grin and said, "Thank you, but I'm actually Jewish."

"Oh, well, then happy…" he trailed off, looking confused for a moment.

"Hannukah," she filled in. "Although it's actually over already."

The man nodded, giving her shoulder a pat that she was certain was supposed to communicate something – although she wasn't exactly sure what – and then he was off toward the bar, where she assumed he'd be getting his fourth or fifth drink judging from the heavy stench already emanating from him.

She turned her attention to the rest of the crowd, searching for any familiar faces. Oliver caught her attention, and she watched him talk to a group of people with Laurel at his side, both of them grinning wide. His arm was around Laurel's waist, who was leaning in to him with her hand resting lightly on her chest. She said something and he turned his face toward her, such an adoring look on his face that it made her almost feel voyeuristic for watching.

And that's when she knew Laurel had gone through with her plan.

"Shrimp puff?" a waiter asked, holding a tray with perfectly arranged puffs toward her. She took one quickly and stuffed it into her mouth, chewing aggressively to try to block out the accusations running in her mind. She could have stopped this. If she told him like she was supposed to none of this would have happened.

She didn't notice Oliver spot her through the mental volleyball match happening in her brain. One inner voice would throw out an accusation and another would lob back a logical counter. Suddenly, another shrimp puff seemed like a wonderful idea – anything to occupy her mouth so she didn't scream – and she turned around searching for the waiter. When she turned back Oliver was in front of her, Laurel at his side like the dutiful backstabbing wife she was.

"You made it," Oliver said happily.

"I did," Felicity said, pointedly avoiding looking at Laurel. She didn't know if she was capable of looking at her and not blurting out everything she'd heard. "Thank you for inviting me."

"Of course. You are very important to Laurel and I. It is only natural you are here."

"Oliver, did you tell Felicity the good news yet?" Laurel asked.

"No, I haven't," Oliver said. When he turned his gaze to Felicity he looked so happy and radiant that she had to actually hold back a whimper. This conversation, which she was realizing really had to be sooner rather than later, was not going to go well. Not at all.

"Laurel and I have some wonderful news," Oliver said. "I know you haven't decided whether or not to have the baby – "

"I am," Felicity interrupted. "Having the baby, I mean. I'm going to have it."

Oliver's eyes shone. "Well, we're happy to hear that." Felicity watched him take Laurel's hand. "Really happy, in fact. And, we're happy – no _ecstatic _– to tell you that the baby's going to have a little brother or sister."

"Only little by a few weeks," Laurel added with a small laugh. Felicity felt a sudden need to stick her head in a freezer.

"That's…" Felicity trailed off, not knowing how to respond. She knew the correct response was to say it was wonderful. It was amazing. It was better news than she could have ever imagined. Instead she said, "Excuse me."

She rushed out of the restaurant, feeling the same panic rising in her chest as when she told Donna about everything. Her head spun and she felt like she couldn't breathe. She staggered out of the casino, the sound of dinging slot machines dull behind the closed doors. She leaned forward and braced her hands on her legs. A hand fell on her shoulder and she jerked forward roughly, heart beating raggedly against her chest even when she saw it was only Oliver.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she managed.

"Come on, let's sit down," he said, taking a hold of her elbow and tugging her toward a nearby bench. They sat down, Felicity glancing anxiously at the door, waiting for Laurel to appear.

"I want you to know what we told you in there changes nothing," he said. "We will still take care of your baby. We'll still pay for your visits and everything. There will just be…" he trailed off, smiling in a dumbfounded manner, "…more to love."

"Oliver, there's something you need to know," Felicity said softly.

"We're so happy that you decided to have the baby," Oliver continued. "Laurel and I, we really are. We went from not having a baby to having two now. It's sort of crazy isn't it? Sort of like when it rains it pours. But in a good way, of course. In a really good way."

He trailed off with a content grin and Felicity sadly told him, "Oliver, Laurel's not pregnant with your baby."

The smile slowly peeled down from his face.

"What?" he said.

"It's not yours. I heard - "

"What are you talking about?" Oliver said. "Of course it's mine."

"I heard her talking when I used your shower a week or so back," she returned firmly, not wanting him to interrupt her again. She had to get this out, and it was hard enough without him interjecting things. "She said she was pregnant, and that she was going to get you to sleep with her so that she could say it was yours."

Oliver stared at her. "This is ridiculous. She wouldn't do that."

"I know what I heard," she said. "And – "

"Whatever you heard was wrong," Oliver said harshly. "Laurel is pregnant with my child. I know that you're worried this will impact you, but it's pretty shitty to come out here and pull this with me. You should be happy – "

"I want to be happy," she said loudly. "You think I wanted this to happen? You think I wanted to overhear your wife telling your _best friend _that she was pregnant with his child, but was going to make you think it was yours? Because I didn't want to hear that. I didn't want to hear any of it."

"Tommy?" Oliver said incredulously. "No. He wouldn't – she wouldn't – whatever you heard, you misunderstood."

She could start to see the steadfast belief he had unravel, and she took the opportunity and slowly said, "They met at a bar after you and her went to Dr. Lerman's office. She was upset and they got drunk – "

"No-"

"If it makes you feel better, it only was once. It – "

"Stop it!" he said loudly. "Just stop! What you're saying doesn't make any sense!"

She went to say something when Tommy Merlyn himself came bursting out of the casino. He walked over to them and then said, "There you are, buddy. We're about to do a toast. I figured …" he trailed off when he saw the expression on his friend's face. His entire body seemed to collapse in on itself when he said, "Oh God, Laurel told you."

* * *

><p>One black eye (on Tommy) and several drinks later (in Oliver), Felicity drove back to her small apartment with a nearly passed out hotel mogul stretched out in her backseat. After he punched Tommy he'd gone straight to the bar, downing two shots of whiskey in a row. That was only the beginning, especially when Laurel showed up, hearing from Tommy that Oliver knew. He responded by dropping his wedding ring in her full champagne flute.<p>

Felicity, feeling somewhat responsible for him after dropping the news, followed him to another casino's bar where he was served a few more drinks before even the bartender – knowing full well who Oliver was – refused to pour him another drink. Oliver slurred that he was going up to his room, but when he tried to get on an elevator at the wrong hotel, Felicity thought it not wise to leave him on his own. So, she'd told him that she was bringing him to his room and instead loaded him into the back seat of her car. About three minutes into the drive he'd fallen asleep, snoring softly.

Donna met her at the door, eyes widening when her eyes landed on a disheveled and inebriated Oliver, whom Felicity was barely holding up.

"Could you help me?" Felicity said, stumbling a bit when Oliver suddenly decided to step forward.

"Whoa, hold on," Donna said, quickly slipping Oliver's arm around her shoulder. Together, the two of them were able to get him to the couch. He sat down heavily, bringing Felicity down with him. Donna pulled her up, shaking her head when he almost immediately started snoring.

"I'm guessing you told him?" Donna said.

"You guessed right."

"And you brought him here, because…"

"I didn't really trust him alone," Felicity said, walking over to the coffee table and pulling the blanket folded up underneath it. She shook it out and draped it over Oliver, pulling the far edge over his feet. "I was afraid he might Jimmi Hendrix himself."

Donna grimaced. "Good point. The guy's had a rough night."

"Yeah," Felicity said, memories drifting back to that bench. "He did."

"Well, if he pukes on the carpet you're cleaning it up," Donna told her, kissing her cheek before heading back upstairs. Felicity follow her, going into her room and changing out of her dress. She went to climb into bed but then went back downstairs, settling on the armchair across from Oliver. She reached back and pulled the blanket off the top of the chair, wrapping it around her. Pulling her knees into her chest, she rested her cheek against the chair, eyes slowly drifting shut.

**A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this! Reviews would be a wonderful Christmas gift :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Happy New Year, everyone! **

Chapter Five

Felicity woke up with a mild headache and she turned to her side absentmindedly, nearly falling clean off the chair. She sat abruptly, clutching the blanket to her chest as she tried to orient herself. When her eyes landed on Oliver, asleep on the couch, it all came back to her. The holiday party. Telling Oliver the truth. Tommy finding them. Laurel finding them.

She rubbed at her eyes, yawning wide. That had been an eventful night, to say the least, and this morning was shaping up to be at least interesting. It wasn't every morning she woke up with a billionaire on her couch. She pulled her knees into his chest and quietly watched him sleep. There had been snoring last night, at least she thought there was, but he was perfectly quiet now. Too quiet, almost.

Gripped with a sudden fear she got up from the chair and padded softly over to him, leaning down just close enough to catch his soft inhales and exhales. She pulled back, letting out a breath of relief.

"Did you just check if he was breathing?" Donna asked, standing at the foot of the staircase. Felicity, knowing she was caught but unwilling to bend, shook her head quickly and said, "Of course not. That's ridiculous."

Donna smirked. "I'll make some coffee."

Felicity nodded, chewing on the side of her thumb as she turned her gaze back to Oliver. He'd shifted while they were talking, his face smashed against the cushion of the couch. Making sure Donna wasn't looking, she furtively leaned over and checked on him. Content that he was peacefully sleeping for the moment, Felicity walked over to Donna and sat down at the kitchen table.

"When do you think we should wake him? I mean, I have to leave for class soon and don't you have a morning shift?"

"Let him sleep as long he can," Donna said, scooping coffee grounds into the machine. "He had a rough night."

"Yeah," Felicity sighed. She fell silent, spreading her fingers out on the cherry red plastic tablecloth. She remembered when her and Donna bought it from the local Goodwill. They were redecorating the kitchen in a vintage diner fashion, which meant they purchased just about any and every kitschy accessory they could. The tablecloth came first, and then there was the napkin holder made out of old bent silverware, coffee mugs so wide and deep that they made it possible to only need one cup of coffee in the morning, old Norman Rockwell prints, and Felicity's favorite – a bright Betty Boop clock.

Donna set one of those gigantic coffee mugs in front of Felicity, and she wrapped both hands around it, the warmth seeping into her palms.

"How are you feeling after last night?"

Felicity shrugged. "It's not really my place to feel anything, is it?"

"You can feel whatever you want," Donna said, reaching forward and tucking a strand of hair behind her daughter's ear.

"It's like I'm caught in the middle," Felicity said softly. "Between him and Laurel. Him and his friend Tommy."

"You had nothing to do with any of that."

"I know," Felicity said. "But I'm the one who told him. I'll always be a part of that story in his mind."

"But at least you're not the person who kept it from him," Donna told her in a low voice. "Who let him go on thinking that baby was his."

"He was happy, though," Felicity said. "I don't know, you should have seen him. He was actually glowing. I didn't know guys glowed, but he did."

"He has another reason to glow," Donna said, taking Felicity's hand and laying it on her stomach. "This baby is still his."

"It's not the same."

"It doesn't have to be the same," Donna told her. "A baby is a beautiful thing, sweetie. Your baby is a beautiful thing."

Felicity nodded, glancing down at her coffee cup. As she stared into the dark liquid she suddenly thought of all the caffeine in that cup, and when she looked abruptly up at her mother Donna calmly told her, "Don't worry, I already switched us to decaf in the morning."

Felicity let out a shaky breath. "Oh, good. This might be Oliver's only chance at a kid, so I really don't want to give it two heads or something."

Donna smirked, she went to say something but then her gaze shifted to behind Felicity. "Well, good morning sleeping beauty."

Felicity glanced back, offering Oliver an encouraging smile.

"Good morning, Oliver."

"I'm at your house," Oliver said uncertainly, scratching his head.

"Yes, you are," Felicity said, standing up and gently guiding him to the table. She'd never had a true hangover before, and from the looks of Oliver after his bender she never wanted to. His face was splotchy and eyes half closed. It must have hurt to move his head too much, because every time he did more than turn it slightly he winced.

"And how did I end up here?" Oliver asked.

Donna and Felicity exchanged a look.

"Let me get you some Advil," Donna said quickly, standing up and going over to the cabinet.

"How much of last night do you remember?" Felicity asked hesitantly. To her relief Oliver said, "I remember the part where my wife is a backstabbing bitch."

"Oh," she breathed out. "Okay, good. I mean, that's _not _good. It's definitely not good that Laurel got pregnant and then tried to stick it on you." Donna shut the cabinet loudly and Felicity jumped a bit, catching the hint and skating past any more talk of Laurel, "Do you remember anything after that?"

"Um, I know there were some drinks," he said. He wiped his eyes and then slowly brought his hands down to the table, his gaze catching on his empty left hand, fourth finger. "Where's my wedding ring?"

Felicity swallowed hard. "Last I saw it was at the bottom of a glass of champagne."

Oliver groaned. "Well, it's better there than on my finger. I can't believe how fucked up – " he paused when Donna set a steaming cup of coffee and two Advils in front of him. Contrite, he quickly added, "Sorry, _messed up_ this has all gotten."

"Fucked up is about right," Donna told him, patting his arm.

"And then you had to take me home with you?" Oliver said. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have put all of this on you. It isn't fair."

"It's fine," Felicity told him. "You were upset. I'm just glad someone was with you."

He nodded, picking up his mug of coffee and taking down the two Advils. When he sat the mug back down on the table he noted, "This is the largest mug I've ever seen."

Felicity nodded. "We found a set of five. I think they were from an old diner or something."

Oliver looked around the kitchen. "They fit in here."

"I'd hope. We spent a good two months outfitting this room," Felicity said. "We'd go to all the thrift shops and flea markets, seeing what we could scrounge up."

Oliver's gaze stilled on the clock and he leaned forward slightly. "That clock. I don't believe it."

"What is it?" Felicity asked.

He laughed, settling back in his seat. "My grandma had the exact same one. She was really into Betty Boop and had just about everything you could think of."

"She and I would have gotten along," Donna said. "I love Betty Boop. The entire kitchen would have been that, but Felicity would only let me get the clock."

"There is a such thing as too much Betty Boop," Felicity returned with a slight grin. "I like only having the little touch. It stands out more."

"This is really good coffee," Oliver said. "The stuff Laurel and – " he stopped himself, and cleared his throat, "The coffee in my room tends to be on the strong side."

"We like a mellow brew," Donna said. "Although, I should warn you, this batch is decaf. As Felicity put it, we don't want the baby coming out with two heads."

Oliver chuckled. "That's very responsible of you both." He glanced over at Felicity. "So, does this mean…"

She nodded, smiling softly. "Yes, I've decided to have the baby."

He grinned then, and while it was genuine there was a certain mark of sadness to it, as well. She had no doubt he was thinking of the other baby, the one he thought he was having with his wife.

"That is really...wonderful. It's just wonderful."

"Thank you."

He was silent for a moment and then asked, "I was wondering – and if you don't want to you don't have to. I mean it. Just say no, and that's fine."

She smirked and told him, "You still haven't told me what I may be saying no to."

He let out an uncomfortable bark of laughter. "Right. Well, I'd really like to go with you to your first prenatal visit. I understand if you wanted it to be just you and your mother, but it would mean a lot to me and -"

"Yes," she interrupted, grinning at the relieved look on his face. "I would love that."

"Have you scheduled it yet?"

Felicity nodded. "It's next week, right after the new year."

"I'll clear my schedule," he said. "Thank you for letting me go with you."

Felicity hesitated for a moment before taking his hand. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

* * *

><p>After a long day at class, Felicity made it to the casino with unusual time to spare. She went over to the frozen yogurt shop deep in the hotel and ordered herself a chocolate chip. They piled it high with a decorative chocolate wafer wedged in the top scoop. Halfway through her treat, she found herself with unexpected company.<p>

"Felicity, hi," Laurel said, standing in front of her table. She looked uncomfortable, face pinched and one hand tightly grasping the strap of her purse.

"Hello Laurel," Felicity said.

Laurel gestured at the empty seat in front of Felicity and began to say, "Is anyone – "

"No, go for it," Felicity said.

Laurel sat down, folding her hands on her lap. Felicity expected her to say something when she sat, but instead she remained completely silent.

"Laurel – "

"I love my husband," she said abruptly. "I have always loved him. We were high school sweethearts, you know. I fell in love with him at sixteen and I've loved him every minute since. What happened with Tommy…" she trailed off, voice breaking, "…it was a mistake. You've made mistakes, right?"

Felicity nodded warily. "Sure."

"So, you understand. I made a mistake. Over eleven years, I made _one _mistake. And now I'm going to lose him? After eleven years? I can't lose him. I won't."

"Why are you telling me all of this?" Felicity asked.

"Because I need you to help me," Laurel said. "For some reason, he trusts you. What you say has meaning for him. So, please, tell him to forgive me. Remind him that I'm his wife, and he loves me. Because he does. Love me. I know he does."

The image of him dropping his wedding ring into Laurel's champagne flute came to Felicity's mind.

"I'm sorry, but I can't talk to him for you. It's not my place to interfere."

"Of course it's your place," Laurel returned. "You're having our baby."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't you want that baby to grow up with two loving parents?" Laurel pressed. "You know what it's like to grow up without a father."

Felicity's eyes darkened. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"I know exactly what I'm talking about," Laurel said. "Your father left when you were two. You haven't heard so much as a hello from him since."

"How do you know that?" Felicity stammered.

"Did you honestly think I wouldn't look into you after you suddenly ended up impregnated with my billionaire husband's sperm?"

Felicity swallowed hard, not liking where this conversation was going.

"It couldn't have been easy," Laurel continued. "I'm sure you wouldn't wish that on another. It's so important to have the guidance of both a mother and a father."

"I did just fine without a father," Felicity said in a tight voice. "And this baby _will_ have both of its parents. It will have me and Oliver."

"You and Oliver?" Laurel said, a brittle laugh escaping her. "What deluded planet are you on? That baby is mine and Oliver's. We are the ones who wanted to have a baby. You are just the accidental cocktail waitress that got in the way."

A flare of anger rose in Felicity's chest and she shot back, "No, I'm the accidental cocktail waitress who's having your husband's baby because you couldn't. You have no claim to this baby. It's Oliver and my baby. Not yours."

Laurel's eyes widened. "You can't honestly think we'll let you keep the baby." Felicity didn't respond and Laurel continued, "What did you think would happen? You'd have Oliver's baby and you and him would ride off into the sunset? That's not how this works. Oliver is my husband. And that baby you're carrying in your unfortunate womb is _our _baby," she stood, bracing her hands on the table and leaning forward, "What's happening now is just a hiccup. He'll get over it. It may take some time, but he is my husband and I am his wife."

Felicity met Laurel's steely glare with her own and said, "Then why did you come here and ask for my help?"

Laurel stepped back, straightening her skirt. "I thought it would get things done quicker, but apparently I was wrong. He will come back to me, though. You know nothing about us, and what we've gone through. We'll pull through. We always do."

With that, Laurel turned on her heel and walked out of the shoppe. Felicity dug into the last bits of her frozen yogurt and stuffed a large spoonful into her mouth.

* * *

><p>"That woman is a piece of work," Donna said, passing Felicity the bowl of popcorn. They were watching their usual Tuesday night shows – both of them scheduled around night shifts at the casinos on Tuesdays – and Felicity had just filled her in on Laurel's visit.<p>

"You're telling me. I feel bad for Oliver."

"That he was married to her for all this time? Me too."

Felicity laughed. "No, I mean about all the stuff now. It has to be hard enough to find out that your wife cheated on you with your best friend, but she looks like she's not going to go down without a fight."

"As long as you are not involved in said fight, it's their problem not ours," Donna said, rifling through the popcorn for a particularly buttery kernel.

"I don't want to get involved," Felicity said. "But I have a feeling I'm going to be dragged in. It seems sort of inevitable at this point."

"You should be fine in populated, well lit places," Donna teased. "But I definitely wouldn't go anywhere secluded with that Laurel. She sounds like she could take you."

"She does wear very spiky heels," Felicity mused. "Although, I'm scrappy. Or so I've been told."

Donna laughed, kissing her daughter's cheek. "Yes, you are. My scrappy little girl. But never underestimate the power of crazy."

Felicity rested her head on her mother's shoulder. "I sort of felt bad for her, actually."

"You did?"

"Yeah, I did. She obviously still loves Oliver and is terrified of losing him. I mean, she's gone about it all wrong, but I can kind of see where she's coming from."

"I guess. I still think she's a crazy bitch."

"Mom," Felicity admonished lightly, looking up at her.

"What? She's mean to you. She majorly hoodwinked Oliver."

"People do desperate things when they're scared," Felicity said.

"You are very wise for your age, babe."

Felicity grinned. "Thank you."

"Speaking of being scared, are we still on for scary movies tomorrow night?" Donna asked.

Felicity settled back into the couch and propped her feet up on the coffee table.

"Is there any other way to ring in the new year?"

"I think we should do the Halloween movies this year. You know, the classics."

Felicity nodded, chewing on some popcorn.

"That seems like a wonderful idea. There's nothing I love more than a good death scene that you can really laugh at."

"It's truly one of life's purest pleasures."

* * *

><p>One of the awful things about owning a large, multi-million dollar casino and hotel was that sometimes personal problems must yield to professional needs. For instance, yes, Tommy Merlyn may have slept with Oliver's wife, but he'd been working on their New Year's Eve bash for weeks, and when Oliver was told in no uncertain terms by the special events team that Tommy was needed for the event, he had no choice but to green light his continued involvement.<p>

"This is going to be the hottest spot on the strip tonight," Tommy said during the final event meeting. "I got a final confirmation that we have Tiesto and that young Kardasian is hosting."

"Kendall," a suit piped in.

"No, that's the model one," another said. "It's the other one. Kylie, I think?"

"Whatever," Tommy said. "People will love it, and that's all that matters. We already sold our target number of tickets, and I project we'll sell another hundred, maybe more, at the door. That sets us to make an absolute killing in tickets alone. Then, when we start talking about drinks. We jacked up the prices, just like all the other parties, but we have a few package deals that I think will be really attractive to people."

"It sounds good," Oliver said. "Make sure we have the rooms ready for our hosts, and that there are a few bottles of champagne in each room. Let's also get one of those standard gift baskets in each room."

"We can do that," Tommy said. "Alright, I think that's all I've got. I'll see you all again in the new year."

Everyone packed up their laptops and assorted notebooks and headed out of the boardroom, on to whatever meeting or event they had next. Tommy walked over to Oliver and gamely asked, "Will I see you at the bash tonight? It's not really New Years Eve without us slamming some tequila shots."

"You can slam my wife instead," Oliver returned in a tone so pleasant that if someone had walked by, they would have just thought the two were having a nice conversation.

"Oliver, come on, I told you it was a mistake. I've apologized. I've groveled. I don't know what else to do."

"Because there's nothing you can do," Oliver said. "Our friendship is over."

"We've been friends for as long as I can remember," Tommy pressed. "Twenty seven years. We've been friends for twenty seven years. That has to mean something."

"It does," Oliver told him. "It means that you threw away a hell of a friendship. So, kudos on that."

"So, that's it? We're done, just like that."

"Yeah," Oliver said, turning toward him. "Just like that. Now, excuse me, there's someone I need to speak with."

* * *

><p>It was a slow day at Lowry's, especially for Vegas standards, and Felicity sat at the hostess desk, playing Tetris on her phone. Lydia sidled up to the desk and said, "You know, you're not supposed to have your phone out during work."<p>

Felicity glanced up at her, "Neither are you, yet almost your entire Instagram feed is selfies during your work hours."

Lydia smirked. "The restaurant has amazing lighting. It shouldn't go to waste."

Felicity laughed. "So, what are you doing tonight? Any big exciting plans?"

"I'm going to a party downtown. Hopefully I'll get nice and drunk and wake up next to someone who is at least a six."

"Well, it sounds like you have a plan."

"What about you?"

"I always stay in," Felicity said. "My mom and I watch horror films and eat way too much sugar. We usually drink champagne but this year – " she cut herself off before it slipped out that she was pregnant. She still hadn't told a lot of people, and telling coworkers in Oliver's hotel seemed like a bad idea.

"What about this year?" Lydia pressed. "You pregnant or something?"

Felicity's eyes widened. "What? I – no – that's – "

"Calm down," Lydia said. "It was just a joke."

"Right, of course. I mean, me being pregnant. That's ridiculous. No, we both overdid it last year and ended up sleeping on the bathroom floor, so we decided to go easy this year."

"I spent New Years Eve 2009 on the bathroom floor," Lydia said nostalgically. "That ended up actually being a really good year."

"Huh, good to know."

"Your billionaire is heading this way again," Lydia said casually, nodding her head toward Oliver who did, in fact, appear to be heading their way. "He visits you way more than the old hostess."

"I told you, he's a family friend," Felicity said. It was the story she'd spun the first time Lydia commented on his frequent visits. "He probably just wants to make sure his hiring me isn't sinking the place."

Lydia gave her an unconvinced look. "Sure. That's totally what it is." She plucked a menu from under the desk. Before she left she murmured, "Friendly reminder that he's married."

"I know," Felicity said.

"And the whole affair with a married guy is so not as fun as they make it look in the movies."

Felicity gave her a look.

"Hello, Mr. Queen," Lydia trilled. "It's nice to see you. Again."

"You too, Lydia."

"Well, I have tables to check on," Lydia said. "You two do…whatever it is you do."

She gave Felicity's hip a little slap and then headed back into the restaurant.

"Hey, how are you?" Oliver asked.

"I'm good," she said, nodding. "How are you?"

"I just had an unpleasant exchange with Tommy. So, I'm a few miles from good."

"I'm sorry," she said. "Are you okay?"

He nodded. "I'm fine. It's just, New Years Eve was sort of our holiday. And he was asking me if I was going to the party tonight. It brought up a lot of memories."

"I know you probably don't want to hear this, but he did want to tell you about what happened."

"But he didn't."

"I just think I beat him to it," Felicity said. "He's your best friend – "

"Exactly," Oliver said. "He's my best friend. Which means he should have stayed the hell away from my wife. Or ex-wife."

"You're set on divorce then?"

Oliver nodded. "I set up a meeting with a divorce attorney for next week. The day after your first prenatal visit, actually."

"That's a lot of big things in one week," she said. "You're really starting the new year off with a bang."

"It's a fresh start," Oliver said. "And I want to start it as soon as possible."

He held her gaze and she felt that tug at the base of her stomach. She'd felt it more often around him recently. At first she thought it was the baby, but now she knew it was him. It was just him.

"So, what are you doing tonight?" she asked, wanting to change the subject, and hoping it would drive that tug away.

"Some friends are going to this party at the Bellagio," he said. "I thought I'd meet up with them."

"Fancy," she said with a grin.

"What about you?"

She explained to him her and Donna's tradition and he grinned and told her, "That sounds like the perfect night. I'm sorry you can't have your champagne, though."

"We already decided to replace it with milkshakes," Felicity told him. "It's very possible that the replacement will be permanent. Because, milkshakes."

He laughed. "They are a thing of beauty."

"That they are," she agreed.

A family approached the desk and Oliver backed up, nodding pleasantly at them.

"Well, I better let you get back to work. Enjoy your movies tonight."

Felicity grinned. "Enjoy your party."

She watched him walk away, disappearing into the throngs of people dotted in the casino proper, and then she flashed her best Lowry grin and addressed the family in front her.

"Welcome to Lowry's. How can I help you?"

* * *

><p>"These movies are so good," Felicity said, taking a bite of her Twizzler. She couldn't eat quite as much junk food as she would on a typical New Years Eve, but her and Donna had settled on what an appropriate amount would be. Her stockpile of treats was about half the size of Donna's, but she told herself that her smaller amount meant she would enjoy them more.<p>

"I don't know how they didn't win Oscars," Donna chimed in. "I mean, that death scene with the garage door? Meryl Streep level of acting."

"Totally."

Donna glanced over at Felicity. "How is your milkshake?"

"Perfect. Although, I have to admit, I miss the champagne. It doesn't really feel like New Years."

"Next year you can have all the champagne you want, babe. You can have an entire bottle to yourself."

"And then you can hold my hair back when I get violently ill."

"What else are mother's for?"

Felicity laughed, taking another sip of her milkshake. There was a knock on their door and she sat up, glancing over at her mom.

"Are we expecting anyone?" Felicity asked.

"I don't think so," Donna said. "I'll get the door."

"No, I'll get it," Felicity said. "I'm closer to the door, anyway."

Felicity stood up, brushing a few errant chip crumbs from her flannel pajama top. The top and its matching pants were speckled with a bright sushi print. They were a sale rack find last year, and immediately became Felicity's favorite pajamas. She opened the door and wished she was wearing something different when she came face to face with Oliver.

"Oliver. What are you doing here?" she stammered.

He took in the sight of her sushi pajamas and murmured, "Those are some pajamas."

"I thought you had a party to go to," Felicity said.

"This sounded like more fun," he glanced over at her to Donna. "Do you guys have room for one more on that couch?"

"We sure do," Donna said, patting the empty spot next to her. "There might be some cheeto crumbs, but, it's nothing a good wash can't get out."

Felicity stepped back to let him in and said, "You want to spend New Years Eve here? Watching bad horror movies?"

"Last year I ended up having to bail one of my friends out of jail at two in the morning because he tried to buy a prostitute who was actually an undercover cop," Oliver said. "Spending New Years Eve here with bad horror movies sounds amazing."

Felicity shut the door, watching as Oliver settled on the couch next to Donna. Her mom offered him the bag of Ruffles and he happily took it, sticking his hand into the bag. He said something that she didn't catch and her mom laughed.

And there it was again – the belly tug.

* * *

><p>They watched movies until it was almost midnight. Then, they switched over to the normal channels, watching the countdown and drunken people blow their little horns and shake their noise makers. Felicity and Donna didn't get any noise makers, but they did have some hats. Oliver helped Felicity when the string on hers got caught on her glasses.<p>

Donna clapped loudly as they counted down.

_Ten!_

_Nine!_

_Eight!_

_Seven!_

_Six!_

_Five!_

_Four!_

_Three!_

_Two!_

_One!_

"Happy New Year, babe!" Donna trilled happily, wrapping her arms around her daughter tightly. She kissed her cheek and whispered, "I am so proud to call you my daughter."

Felicity smiled, eyes dampening as she gave her mother another tight hug. When they pulled apart Donna went over to Oliver first, giving him an equally tight hug.

"I know you've come into the family in the strangest way, but I'm glad you did," she told him.

"Thank you."

"Oh, we need our sparkling grape juice!" Donna said suddenly. "I can't believe I forgot it!"

Donna rushed off into the kitchen and Oliver stepped closer to Felicity with an almost shy smile. He opened his arms and she stepped into them without hesitation, wrapping her arms around his neck. This was probably the only time a hug was entirely appropriate – even expected – and she took perhaps a bit too much liberty with it. But then she felt his arms wind around her waist and he pressed his cheek lightly against hers.

"Happy New Year, Felicity," he murmured, his breath tickling her ear.

"Happy New Year, Oliver."

They pulled apart when Donna returned, balancing two champagne flutes in one hand and one in the other.

"Oh, let me help you with that," Oliver said, taking a champagne flute from her more occupied hand. He handed it over to Felicity and then took another for himself.

Donna raised her glass and said, "To a wonderful 2015 filled with love, happiness, and health."

They clinked glasses and then sipped from their flutes. They were silent for a moment, and then Felicity was the first to admit, "This stuff is awful."

Oliver laughed. "I didn't want to be the one to say it, but yeah, sort of."

Donna frowned, glancing down at her nearly full flute. "Another rounds of milkshakes, instead?"

Oliver and Felicity both nodded.

"Put extra whipped cream on mine, please!" Felicity said, walking over to the couch and settling into the corner. Oliver sat next to her, pulling the pillow from behind him and sliding it behind her back. A few minutes later Donna returned with the milkshakes, handing them out. She settled into her side of the couch and they resumed the movie. Sitting on the couch, watching Halloween III, Felicity couldn't think of anywhere – or anyone – she'd rather begin the new year with.

**A/N: You know what would really make my 2015 (and the last few hours of 2014)? Some reviews! I'd love to hear your thoughts on this!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thank you all for your reviews! We have the first prenatal visit up in this chapter! I'd like to note that I have never had a baby, so some of this may be off in terms of what actually happens at a prenatal visit. I did do research, but Google has its limitations!**

Chapter Six

Felicity sat in the doctor's office, Oliver beside her leafing through a parenting magazine. She glanced around, looking at all the other pregnant women and their doting – or apparently doting - husbands. One couple right in front of her was talking in low tones, the man's hand on his wife's knee. She said something and he nodded quietly, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her temple. It felt like such an intimate moment that Felicity had to look away. She turned her gaze to Oliver, instead.

Again, she was struck by what a fine specimen of human he was. Really. It wasn't just her. She caught the other glances, too. His face was remarkably well made, with just the right amount of strength and softness. A strong jawline swept up to proud cheekbones, and his warm mouth that could make her stomach twist with the slightest curve. And then there was the rest of him. She'd only seen him with clothes, of course, but even they served him well. His suits were always perfectly cut, and when he went more casual in sweaters or tshirts the material clung to him in all the right places.

She felt something in the base of her belly and quickly looked away, labeling it a baby's kick although she knew it was much too early for that. There were a lot of things she was blaming on the baby lately. The itching in her palms when she was around Oliver. The way time moved too quickly when she was with him and agonizingly slow when he was away. She chalked it up to hormones. It was his baby growing inside her, after all. That was bound to help some sort of affection flourish. But the truth was, it was him. It was all him.

He felt her gaze and looked up, blue eyes blinking back at her as he said, "You've been staring at me for a good forty seconds now. In case you weren't aware."

She flushed, rubbing at her neck. "Sorry. I-I guess I'm just a little nervous. The last time I was at a gynecologist's office I found out I was pregnant with, well, _your _baby, so…"

He grinned somewhat sheepishly and patted her knee. "Just think of it this way, you can't be more surprised than that today."

"Don't say that. Now it'll happen. I'll have twins or something."

"It's probably a little early for that."

She knew that, but she couldn't shake the feeling that the surprises weren't at an end. Hadn't it been one after another in the wake of the pregnancy news? Her getting fired. Laurel's affair. She was almost expecting another, just to keep the momentum.

"If you have twins, we'll deal with it," he said, reaching over and taking her hand. "Whatever happens, we'll deal with it. You and me."

She nodded, not letting go of his hand and secretly thrilled when he didn't either. He ran his thumb along her knuckles, pausing at a patch of blistered skin. He lifted her hand for a better view.

"What happened here?"

She glanced over and said, "A bacon incident."

He raised an eye brow in question and she explained, "We had BLTs a few days ago. I had the misfortune of dropping some scalding hot bacon on my hand. That is the remnant of my burn."

"Ouch," he said, carefully returning her hand to her lap.

"You're telling me. In case you wondered, bacon burns are a bitch." After the swear left her mouth she paused for a second and then asked, "Do you think the baby can hear me when I swear?"

"Probably not now," Oliver returned thoughtfully. "Lack of ears and all."

"But when it has ears," Felicity pressed. She thought about it for a moment and then said, "I'm going to have to clean up my language."

Oliver chuckled. "I don't hear you swear that much."

"You've never heard me do laundry," she said. "Or load the dishwasher."

"Those tasks bring out your worst?" he teased. "I can just imagine you over by a washing machine, swearing like a sailor."

She watched his face as he was caught up in the imagery, his mouth pulled into a soft grin.

"What makes you swear?" she asked in a light voice, tilting her head to the side as she watched him consider her question.

"Playing board games."

She laughed out of surprise. Of all the answers she expected, board games was definitely not one of them.

"Like what ones?" she asked immediately.

After a pause he said, "Monopoly. Definitely Monopoly. My sister and I used to play a lot when I was little and the two of us were pretty competitive."

"You were putting up hotels all your life then, huh?" she returned with a grin.

He laughed. "I guess you could say that."

"And you always won?" she offered.

He shook his head and said, "No, actually, it was Thea. She was absolutely ruthless. I also think she cheated. I swear she made copies of the money and paid herself under the table."

"I like your sister," Felicity said, envisioning a seven or eight year old little girl slipping money out from under the table.

"She's pretty great," he agreed. "She'd like you too, by the way. You guys are similar."

"We are?"

He nodded. "You're both spunky."

"Spunky," Felicity repeated. "I'll take that."

He grinned, pausing for a moment to glance down at his watch. It was then that she caught the slightest bit of tension in his jaw. For all his calming words, it seemed he wasn't as relaxed about it all as he seemed, either. She thought of all the other issues he had percolating in his life, and wondered if he'd had any further problems with Laurel or Tommy.

She cleared her throat and tentatively asked, "Are you still meeting with that divorce attorney tomorrow?"

She could tell from his expression that she'd caught him somewhat off-guard, but he still nodded, gaze trained on a woman's purse ahead of them as he said, "Yes, tomorrow."

"You can talk to me about it," she said softly. "I mean, I understand if you don't want to. But – "

"Thank you," he interrupted. "We're working through it."

"We?" she stammered.

He nodded. "I met with Laurel earlier this week, after I'd calmed down. We talked through some things."

Felicity nodded silently, not trusting her voice. Just a week earlier he'd been railing against her, and now they're talking again? What did that mean? What could it even mean? Besides the obvious. That they were talking. And who knows what came next.

"I don't think I fully understood how much the miscarriage impacted her, and all the problems that came afterwards."

She swallowed hard and then just came out with it. "So, you're not moving forward with the divorce?"

His eyes snapped to her face but she pointedly kept her gaze on her lap. She didn't want to see whatever expression was flitting over his face.

"What? Of course I am."

Finally, she let herself look at him. The relief on her face read as plain as the disbelief on his.

"She tried to trick me into fatherhood. That doesn't change just because I understand a bit more where her head was."

"In crazyville?" she returned without thinking. Her eyes widened when she realized what she said, but she relaxed when he offered her a sliver of a grin. But honestly, the woman basically attempted to entrap him in a pregnancy. One that actually involved his best friend. That was batshit crazy on a good day.

"I realized the divorce would go a lot easier if we were on better terms. So, I took the high road."

"The high, high, _high _road."

He gave her another smile. "I'm trying to be civil now. Will that change, probably. But at least I'm trying."

A nurse walked out into the waiting room and said, "Felicity Smoak?"

Felicity felt a surge of energy go through her and she glanced over at Oliver and murmured, "Showtime."

They both stood up and went over to the nurse. She was wearing bubblegum pink scrubs with little teddy bears dotted in a pattern. When she spoke again, her voice was a cheerful match to her getup.

"Hello you two," she said with an indulgent grin. "Follow me and I'll take you to your room."

As they walked the nurse glanced back and said, "My name is Charlotte. I'll be taking a quick history of you two before the doctor comes in. How are you two?"

"Good," Felicity said. She glanced over at Oliver, who shot her a grin, "We're both good."

"Well, that's just _super_," the nurse chirped. She stopped outside of a room and gestured for them to go first. "After you."

She walked in and sat down on the little bed nestled in the corner of the room, the back of her heels knocking against the base of the bed.

"I need you to change into this dressing gown," she said, "And then I'll be back to take a history."

Felicity nodded, taking the gown from her. The gauzy material rubbed roughly against her fingers. The nurse walked out and Oliver hitched a thumb toward the door himself.

"I'll just…"

Felicity nodded. "Yeah, I'll be quick."

He slipped out and Felicity quickly changed, peeking her head out the door after and bringing Oliver back in the room. He smirked at her new getup, but did not comment. A few minutes later, the nurse returned.

"Alright, so I see here that you are nine weeks pregnant," the nurse said, flipping through the chart. "We'll start with the easy stuff to ease you guys in. Felicity, describe your periods for me. How are they and how long do they usually last?"

Felicity felt her skin go splotchy as she looked over at Oliver, who at least had the good grace to look uncomfortable. The nurse caught the unvoiced hesitation in the room and gamely said, "If your husband gets squeamish about this he probably should steer clear of the delivery room. After birth is no joke."

"Oh, he's not my husband," Felicity said quickly. "I was accidentally artificially inseminated with his baby. I thought I was getting a pap smear."

"Total accident," Oliver piped in. When Felicity glanced over at him he hurriedly added, "But a happy one."

"Yeah, it sort of is."

Both glanced back at nurse Charlotte, who looked positively stricken. Felicity, taking pity on the woman, said, "My periods are pretty normal. They go on for about five or six days."

The nurse nodded, seeming to kick back into action as she scribbled the information down. "Okay, thank you. And when was your last period?"

The period talk went on for some time, and then it was medical history, and whether either of them had surgeries, and whether they smoked or took drugs.

"I ate a pot brownie in college once," Felicity said. "Does that count?"

The nurse smirked. "Unless you still eat them now, no."

"Oh, I haven't had one since. Why ruin a perfectly good brownie with pot?"

"What about family history," the nurse continued. "Do either of your families have any chronic diseases?"

Felicity shook her head. "Not that I know of."

"My family has a history of psychological problems," Oliver said after a moment. Felicity glanced over at him and he said, "My mom."

"I didn't know that," she murmured. "I'm sorry."

"The nurse continued down her list of questions, asking them if there were any genetic disorders they were aware of in their respective families, and what medication, supplements, or alcohol Felicity may have consumed since her last period.

"I luckily swear off most medicine," Felicity said. "I take an Advil here and there, but not much else. And, I haven't had anything to drink since the insemination. Alcohol, I mean. Obviously I've had _other _things to drink. Like, water. Some coffee, decaf since I found out, though."

"She doesn't want to give the baby two heads," Oliver explained with a soft grin, recalling their New Years Eve conversation.

"Smart thinking," the nurse said. "That's all the questions I have for you. The doctor should be with you soon." She went to walk out but then hesitated. "For what it's worth, whatever the reasons you guys are here, you seem like you'll make good parents."

Felicity smiled softly, stealing a glance at Oliver. He was looking right at her.

"Thank you," she said, tearing her gaze away from him and turning her attention back to the nurse. "We appreciate that. A lot."

The nurse nodded. "You're welcome. Like I said, the doctor should be here soon."

Oliver stepped forward when she left, laying a hand on Felicity's shoulder.

"So far so good, right?" he said, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. She nodded, glancing up at him.

"I'd say so. I feel sort of stupid for bringing up the pot brownie, though."

He chuckled. "I can just imagine you after it."

She grinned, and then her thoughts drifted back to what else had been brought up during the history.

"I didn't know about your mom," she said.

He shrugged, stepping back and leaning against the wall. "It's not so bad now. It was sometimes when we were growing up, but she found a round of medication that works for her about ten years ago, and it's helped a lot."

"I'm glad."

The doctor walked in, all smiles and good hair as he closed the door and introduced himself.

"My name is Dr. Smith," he said. "It's wonderful to meet you both."

He gave a small introduction and asked if they had any questions yet. Felicity and Oliver exchanged a look.

"About a million," Felicity admitted. "But I don't really know where to start."

Dr. Smith laughed. "All new parents feel that way. But, I assure you, it'll come just as naturally to you as the others. I'm going to start off by conducting a brief physical. Just to make sure everything's in working order."

Felicity nodded, Oliver stepping over to the edge of the room as Dr. Smith moved forward and began the physical. He took her blood pressure – which was healthy – and checked her breathing. He looked in her throat and ears, and when all of that checked out, told her what came next.

"I'm going to conduct a pap smear next, just to check that there's nothing abnormal there that will interfere with the pregnancy."

She saw Oliver pull his phone out of his pocket and feign getting a call.

"I need to take this," he said, slipping quickly out of the room. Dr. Rivers chuckled and told her, "This is the part where most husbands bail."

"Oh, he's not my husband," she said. "He…"

She trailed off when Dr. Smith tapped the stirrups for her to put her legs up, and then turned to the tray of medical instruments. It was clear he had better things to do than listen to the melodrama of her pregnancy, so she finished with, "…it's complicated."

"Isn't it always," he returned sagely. "Alright, now remember not to hold your breath."

The rest of the visit was a blur. He went through blood tests, genetic diagnostics tests, and a whole slew more with names she forgot the second they were uttered. It was a bit overwhelming, and when she glanced at Oliver she saw he was feeling the same way. He caught her gaze and put on a brave face, bracing his hand on her shoulder again.

"Again, it's a bit early for a lot of those," Dr. Smith said. "But I've found it's good to give prospective parents a bit of a roadmap of what's to come."

"Definitely, we appreciate it," Felicity said.

"Very much," Oliver added.

And then the ultra sound happened and everything was suddenly slow. It was like time stopped in that small room, Dr. Smith pointing to what looked like a shadow on the screen and telling them, "That's your baby."

"That's our baby," Felicity murmured, reaching out blindly for Oliver's hand. She found it easily, and he held her hand in both of his.

"It's about the size of a grape right now," Dr. Smith said.

"My little grape," Felicity said, her eyes filling with tears. "I always liked grapes."

"I'll print off a copy of the ultra sound for you," the technician said.

"Oh, can you make several?" Felicity said. Directing her gaze to Oliver she said, "I'm sure you'll want one, and my mom will, too."

"I'll print as many as you want."

Felicity gnawed at her bottom lip and carefully asked, "Is five too much?"

The technician chuckled. "Not at all. That's nowhere near the highest number I've gotten."

Felicity laughed as the technician wiped the cold goo off of her stomach. "That makes me feel better."

As the technician cleaned up Dr. Smith explained how he would be scheduling some routine blood tests for her in the next week, and she should schedule her next visit for four weeks from today. Felicity nodded, feeling a sort of contentment – and excitement – she hadn't experienced perhaps ever. When she looked to Oliver, she thought to herself that he seemed to be experiencing the same sort of strange euphoria.

In his car on the ride back to her apartment, he told her, "Thank you for letting me be a part of that. It was really special. Incredibly so."

"I'm glad you were there," Felicity said. "Besides, my mom was a wreck that she wasn't able to take off of work. She was beyond relived you were going with me."

"Can you believe we made that little grape?" he asked after a moment.

She smirked. "And we weren't even trying."

"I mean it, though. It's all sort of remarkable when you really think about it. We are bringing another person into this world."

She smiled softly, resting her head against the headrest. "Yeah. It is pretty remarkable."

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this! I would love to hear your thoughts!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you all for reading! This chapter introduces the next mini-arc of the story!**

Chapter Seven

Felicity always liked Las Vegas after the new year. There was a feeling of rejuvenation that permeated the busy-as-ever streets. Not that the city needed rejuvenation. It was quite the opposite. She swore, there was never a slow time in Las Vegas. Even the most humdrum weeks brought throngs of people, drunken cohorts stumbling down the sides of the main boulevard with their Eiffel Tower drinks and loud, raucous voices. Still, as someone who lived – as opposed to partied – in the city, she enjoyed the freshness of the new year.

And, things were going remarkably well. After her first prenatal visit she'd had two more checkups, each of them going as swimmingly as the first. Her belly had made its arrival a few weeks prior, seemingly popping out over night. It had gotten such that she had to tell Lydia at work, although she conveniently left out the identity of the father. Lydia, sensing that the father issue was purposely being left out, avoided asking any questions. Everything was going along perfectly.

Then Tommy Merlyn ended up in the hospital.

A vagrant found him on the outskirts of downtown, beaten so severely that he was unrecognizable. Felicity heard the news first in the break room at Lowry's. It was just a buzz of conversation that she typically ignored as she ate her lunch, but when she heard Tommy's name her ears rang in recognition.

"What happened to him?" Felicity asked.

The two looked at her in surprise. She usually didn't engage anyone but Lydia in conversation, she found the others at the restaurant a bit too dithering for her liking, but opinions aside they had viable information here. When they didn't answer she pressed, "Tommy Merlyn? You said something happened to him?"

"Yeah," one of them answered. "He got the shit kicked out of him by someone. It landed him in the hospital and everything. "

"He was supposed to be running that MS benefit tonight, and we heard the others freaking out about it," the other chimed in. "They're pretty pissed."

"How can they be pissed?" Felicity asked immediately. "He didn't beat himself up."

"This MS thing is supposed to be a big deal and I think there were some loose ends he was supposed to deal with," one said.

Felicity fell silent, taking a bite of her sandwich and wondering if Oliver knew what happened. That question was very much on her mind as she went through the workday, waiting for him to pass by the hostess desk. He never did, and she didn't see him until later that day when she went to the hospital. She had a feeling she would find him there, and sure enough, there he was in the waiting room, shoulders set in such a tense position that he looked in pain.

She sat down next to him and laid a hand on his knee.

"Hey."

"What are you doing here?" he asked. " How did you-"

"Break room talk," she told him. "You know how quickly news spreads."

Oliver laughed humorlessly and nodded. "Yeah."

'What about you?"

She could see him clench his jaw before he told her, "I was his emergency contact."

She didn't know what to say to that. There was a certain poetic irony to him being the emergency contact for someone with whom he essentially cut all communication. She waited for Oliver to say something, and when he didn't she tentatively asked, "Did you see him?"

He nodded. "Whoever did this to him did a good job."

"Oliver-"

"They did such a good job that he's in an induced coma, because his brain is swelling," Oliver continued, his voice raw. "And they also broke two of his ribs."

"Do the police have any idea who could have done this?" she asked gently.

Oliver shook his head, running a hand wearily over his eyes. "No. But I do."

That took Felicity by surprise, and she blurted, "You what?"

Oliver settled back in his chair, his face drawn. He hadn't looked this worn down since the day after New Years when he was reeling from Laurel and Tommy's betrayal and approximately a fifth of whiskey.

"Tommy came to me a week or so back," Oliver explained in a low voice. He spoke so quietly that she had to lean in to hear him. "He told me he'd gotten into some trouble and needed money. I told him to use his own, but he said he couldn't do that. Something about the money being tracked. Anyway, I basically told him to fuck off. You know, who was he to come with me after everything that happened. But, he just kept saying that I was his last chance, and he really needed my help."

"You think that whoever wanted the money did this?" Felicity asked.

Oliver nodded. "What else am I supposed to think? A week ago he says he owes someone money, and then he ends up half dead downtown?"

"You still don't know that's what happened," Felicity reminded him. She could see where this was heading, and sure enough before she could say more he said, "If I had just given him the damn money we wouldn't be here."

"Oliver-"

"I was too proud. After what he did, I couldn't help him. Just the thought made me sick. But now. I should have been the better person. I should have helped him."

"This is not your fault," she told him firmly. "None of this is your fault."

"How is it not my fault?" he pressed. "I didn't give him the money and now he's in the hospital."

"No, he made whatever stupid deal he made and ended up in the hospital," Felicity corrected. "You had no obligation to help him. Especially after what happened."

She could see Oliver grappling with what she said, grappling with all the inner demons that made him wish against all odds and reason that he'd just given Tommy the money, and then everything would have been different. But they didn't know that. The money could have made no difference.

Oliver shifted beside her, resting his elbows on his knees, body hunched forward, and murmured, "What are you doing here anyway? You only met Tommy that once."

"I'm not here for Tommy," she returned softly.

He glanced over at her and said, "You knew I was going to be here? I didn't even know I was going to be here."

She smiled a bit and reminded him, "He's your best friend, Oliver. I think that counts for more than you realize."

"He was my first friend, you know. I had my first beer with him. My first and last smoke."

"I'm happy to hear that," she interjected.

"That's what made what he did so much worse," Oliver said. "He was like a brother to me. And to think that he could…hurt me like that."

"I know," she said, touching his arm gently. "But the fact that you're here, it means something. You could have left, but you didn't."

"His family is out in Arizona," Oliver said. "I didn't want him to be alone. Laurel was here earlier, but she didn't stay long. I think she thought I didn't want her here."

"Did you?"

"Not really."

Felicity nodded, settling back in her seat and laying her hand on her belly. Her dress was a bit tight for her current state, and her belly protruded sharply from the magenta fabric.

"I can't believe how much you've grown," he noted.

"I know," she said. "I think I'm going to have to get some maternity clothes soon. A lot of my stuff is starting to not fit."

"Get whatever you need," he said. "I can even go with you, if you want."

She grinned. "I have trouble picturing you going shopping in general, but maternity clothes shopping?"

"It's not my favorite thing, but if you needed me to be there I would."

"Thank you for that, but this sounds more like a task for Donna Smoak. She loves shopping."

"Okay, but if you need me –"

"I know where to find you," she interrupted with a small smile.

"Yeah," he murmured, his gaze meeting hers. "You always do, somehow."

"Are you hungry?" she asked.

"Not really," he said with a shrug. "But I'll go with you to the cafeteria, if you want."

She nodded, standing up and heading toward the elevators. He followed, and as they walked she asked, "Have you had any dinner?"

"Not yet."

"You should eat," she said definitively.

"I'm going to grab something after I leave the hospital," he said, stepping behind her into the elevator. She pushed the ground floor button, and as the doors closed she pointedly asked, "And when will that be?"

"I don't know."

"You'll probably stay late and then the cafeteria won't be open."

"There are other places to eat," he pointed out. "I also have this thing called a kitchen."

She gave him a dubious look.

"No you don't. You live in a hotel room."

"I own the casino," he pointed out. "I'm fairly sure it has a kitchen."

"Oliver-"

"If I just eat here will you stop badgering me?" he retorted glibly.

"Yes," she said simply. "Yes, I will."

"Okay, fine. I'll eat something then. Am I allowed to choose my own food, or will you have something to say about that, too?"

At first she thought he was actually perturbed by her coddling, but then he grinned a bit and she relaxed. She thought for a moment she'd gone too far, but someone had to look out for him.

They walked over to the cafeteria and she looked around the large expanse, trying to find what exactly would pinpoint her craving. She wanted something salty, and she saw exactly what she wanted over by the salad bar. She went over and immediately filled a small plate with pickles and black olives. She finished it with a dollop of ranch dressing.

"What the hell is that?"

"Part of my dinner," she told him, licking her lips in anticipation.

"You're kidding, right?"

"I need French fries," she continued, breezing past him over to the grill. It wasn't too crowded at that moment, and easily scooped up a basket of fries and added it to her bounty. A fruit cup later, and one grilled chicken sandwich at Oliver's insistence, they were at a table. Oliver ate his burger slowly as he watched Felicity eat in silent amusement.

"This is the greatest thing I have ever eaten," Felicity said after a forkful of pickle, olive, french fry, and ranch dressing. She chased it with a bite of chicken sandwich to appease Oliver.

"You're going to look back on this and be extremely grossed out."

"I don't even care," Felicity said, happily putting another forkful in her mouth. "Not a little bit."

She looked at his half-eaten burger and said, "He's going to be okay."

Oliver paused for a moment. "You don't know that."

"You don't know otherwise," she held stubbornly. "And thinking positively can really make a difference. So, start thinking positively. Start believing he will be okay."

"Thinking and believing doesn't do anything," Oliver said in a low voice. "But I know what does."

There was something to his voice that alarmed her, and she asked, "What does that mean?"

"I'm going to find out who did this to him. And I'm going to make them pay."

"Oliver," she breathed out. "You can't do that. You…That's insane."

"It's the only thing I can do. The only thing that will make a difference."

"Look what they did to Tommy." She was struck suddenly by a vision of Oliver in a hospital bed, face bruised and swollen, and she reached forward and grasped his wrist. "Please, don't do anything. Oliver, I…don't put yourself in danger."

He covered her hand with his and gave it a quick squeeze.

"I didn't mean to worry you."

"Well, you are. When you talk about going after people who did that to Tommy, it really worries me."

"I won't," he said off-handedly. "I was just venting."

She let it go at that, but wasn't convinced. She'd seen the fury lighted in his eyes when he said he'd make the men who hurt Tommy pay. She only prayed he had enough sense to not go through with any plans he may have concocted.

BBBBB

She stayed with Oliver for a bit after dinner until he looked over at her and said, "You don't have to stay. They're going to kick me out soon, anyway. Go home."

"Maybe you should come, too?" she proposed. "I don't know about you, but this place is sort of creepy after hours. Like, do you see that picture?" she pointed at a painting of a woman across from them. "I swear I've seen the eyes move."

He smirked. "The eyes have not moved."

"That's what you think now. But, the moment I leave…"

"I'm fine," he said. "I don't need a babysitter."

"I know you don't need a babysitter," she said slowly. "But…you know what, if you want to stay then stay. I'll see you tomorrow?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I'll stop by during your break."

"Sounds good. So, I will see you then. Yep. See you then."

She turned around and headed toward the door, but then she heard her name.

"Yeah?" she said, turning around.

"Thank you for being here today. It means a lot to me."

She nodded. "Of course."

"Have a good night, Felicity."

"You too, Oliver."

**A/N: So...who attacked Tommy? I'd love to hear your guesses!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hope you enjoy this!**

Chapter Eight

Oliver walked into The Goat, the smell of cheap Chinese food and smoke assaulting his nose. The bar was sparsely populated; all the tables empty and the bar unoccupied, save for the one homeless man at the end of the bar picking through a bowl of bar nuts and another a few seats away nursing a beer. The bartender was a far cry from the strip fare. She looked to be somewhere in her fifties, with the sort of weathered face that told entire stories with a nod or tilt. She looked over at Oliver and asked, "Can I get you something?"

"I'm here to see Motya," he said

The woman didn't react, although she proceeded to look Oliver over with measured calculation.

"What for?" she asked gruffly.

"Tell him I'm here to pay a debt."

The woman made a sort of clucking noise and then told him, "Fine. Stay here."

She passed through a door located a few feet back from the bar, and as the door swung open he heard the muffled sound of male voices. He was well aware of what was happening back there. The Goat was notorious for its backroom poker games, brokered by one of the city's most brutal organized crime factions, the Bratva. They took their games seriously, and an unpaid debt or slide of hand could cost someone their kneecaps. The games were legendary for their payout, though, attracting the straight players, as well as the crooked.

The woman came back out and told him, "Motya will see you."

"Thank you."

He began to walk forward, but she stopped him.

"Not just yet," she said, eyes narrowed. She glanced over at one of the men seated at the bar and said, "Sasha, check him."

The man stood up, all beef and brawn, and approached Oliver. He gestured for him to hold his arms out to the side and then proceeded to pat Oliver down, likely checking for wires or weapons. When he was content that Oliver was clean he stepped back and nodded to the bartender.

"You can head back now," she told him.

Oliver nodded and then stepped past her to the door. He pushed it open with his hands and the smell of smoke grew stronger. They sat around a single table littered with ashtrays, empty glasses, and cards. A beefy man dressed in a blue polo with a gold chain around his thick neck looked up at Oliver and said, "Oliver Queen, to what do we owe this pleasure?"

"Hello Motya."

"We usually don't see your likes down here," he said. "Do you care to join the game? It's a 1,000 dollars buy in, but that shouldn't be a problem for you."

"I'm not here to play poker," Oliver said levelly. "I'm here to pay off a debt."

Motya laughed, leaning back in his seat. "Let me guess, you are here for Tommy Merlyn?"

"He'd be here himself but someone put him in a hospital bed," Oliver returned pleasantly. "You don't have any idea who that someone is, do you?"

Motya grinned wide. "No idea."

"Of course you don't," Oliver said, stepping forward. He pulled a check from his back pocket and set it down on the table. "Tommy Merlyn's debt has been paid. Stay away from him."

Motya eyes him casually as Oliver turned back to the door. As he walked away Motya said, "That was all fine a few weeks ago, but now the price has gone up."

Oliver stopped, his heart slamming against his chest. He had a feeling this wouldn't go easily, but he'd been futilely hoping he was wrong. Wasn't enough of his life difficult? Why couldn't this just resolve itself in a simple manner?

"What do you mean the price went up," he said, turning back.

"Your friend Tommy used those funds to start up that little casino of yours," Motya told him. "Which, I've noticed, has proven to be quite lucrative. You've done well for yourself, Oliver. Seeing as my money went into that success, it's only fair I get to see some of that money in return."

It all came to Oliver, then. The percentage that Tommy kicked in when they started the casino, although Oliver knew he'd been cut off. The haphazard story about his father relenting, seeing something enterprising in his son. It had all been a lie. But, he'd seen how desperate Tommy was to get away from his father, and how much he wanted something that was his own. Oliver understood that. Wasn't that essentially what he was doing when he broke away from his family to build the casino? They'd helped him in the end, but that was never a certainty.

"What do you want?" Oliver said.

"I want a percentage of your casino's profits."

Oliver laughed sardonically. "That's not going to happen."

"I don't think you understand who exactly you are speaking to," Motya said, leaning forward. "I nearly put your friend in a box, and I can do it again. I can do it to you. I can do it to your family. I can do it to your little blonde girlfriend –"

"You stay away from her," Oliver hissed, stepping forward.

"You show some respect," Motya snapped. "Your friend made a stupid deal, but that's not my fault. He took our money and put it into your hotel, and we expect to see some of that money."

"You have no claim to the hotel," Oliver said. "You gave Tommy money and now you have it back. That's it. We're square."

"Your friend was late paying off the debt," Motya said. "Think of this percentage as interest."

"That's not fair."

"This is Las Vegas. Nothing is fair. Here's how it's going to go, Oliver. Either you give us a percentage or more of your people end up in the hospital. It's as simple as that."

"Stay away from them."

"I won't go anywhere near them," Motya returned easily. "But my men will. There will be one of them on each and every one of your friends and family until you give me my cut."

BBBBB

Later that day Oliver sat with Felicity in the hospital waiting room as they waited for her name to be called for some routine blood work. She flipped through a magazine, humming some song beneath her breath. After a while she stopped, and when he looked over at her she was looking right at him with this sort of contemplative look on her face.

"What?" he asked.

"I still don't understand why you're here," she said. "It's just routine blood work."

"I want to be here," he said.

"It's routine stuff. Don't you have other important things to do? You know, maybe with that casino you run?"

"There is nothing more important than being here with you," he told her levelly.

She shrugged, returning her attention to her magazine. In reality, it was less about the blood test and more about him not liking her going places without him after what Motya said. The hospital hedged toward Bratva territory, and he didn't like the idea of her being there by herself.

A nurse walked into the room and called out, "Felicity?"

Felicity glanced up expectantly and then nodded, putting down her magazine. She stood up and Oliver followed, glancing cautiously around the waiting room to see if anyone looked out of place. Distracted, he nearly walked into Felicity when she stopped to take a form from the nurse.

"Sorry," he stammered.

"Careful there. I'm carrying precious cargo, remember?"

He laughed, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Yes, I'm sorry. Keep going."

She flashed him a grin and then they followed the nurse over to a room where she would draw the blood. Felicity sat down on one seat and Oliver took one across from her. The nurse disappeared for a moment and then returned with the blood kit, a mess of tubes and some vials.

"How are you with needles?" the nurse asked Felicity.

"Fine," she said, shrugging. "You know, I don't love them but I don't hate them. I'm pretty neutral."

The nurse nodded. "Okay, then I won't use a butterfly on you. Some people are so squeamish, you wouldn't believe."

"Oh, believe me I can," Felicity said. The nurse looped the band around Felicity's bicep and then tapped on a vein to see if it was a good one. "My mom is the worst with needles."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. She faints every time her blood is taken."

The nurse slid the needle in and Oliver winced, his hands grasping his knees tightly. Felicity noticed how he'd tensed up and she laughed.

"Don't tell me you're squeamish?" she said.

"I just don't like seeing the blood go through the tube thingies," he said. "I don't know, it seems unnatural."

"I told you that you didn't have to come," she reminded him. He had to look away when the nurse pulled one tube off and replaced I with another. It began to fill rapidly with dark blood.

"I know," he bit out. "But, I had to."

"No, you didn't."

"Yes," he said. "I did."

She sensed something off in his voice, so she didn't push him. But she could tell from his shortness that he was there for more than just moral support. She waited until they were in his car to ask him what the hell was happening. He reluctantly told her about earlier with Motya.

"He threatened you," Oliver said. "So, I needed to be here. He probably won't do anything. But, if something did happen and I wasn't here. If I let something happen to you –"

"Hey, it's okay," she said, laying a calming hand on his arm. She felt his muscles relax under her touch. "I'm okay."

"I don't know what to do. I can't let them have a stake in the casino. It would be an accounting nightmare, not to mention it could get me shut down. But, I don't know what else to do. He's not going to stop coming after me, after the people I care about."

"Can you go to the police?" she suggested.

He laughed then, but it held no humor. "Half the police is in cahoots with them. That's how they get away with all this shit. And the few good ones are so entrenched in the rest of crime happening here that they don't have time for something like this. Basically, I'm screwed."

"There has to be another way," she said.

"Well, if you know of one please enlighten me. Because I've been thinking about this all afternoon, and I don't see any other option."

"It's only been one afternoon," she reminded him gently. "Give yourself some time to think this through. I'm sure you'll think of something."

He glanced over at her with a soft smile and said, "You're sure, huh?"

"I believe in you," she said. "And I believe you will get yourself out of this. You're a good businessman, Oliver, and isn't that what this is? Business."

He sighed. "If you can even call it that."

"You will find a way out of this," she said. "And if not, well, then we'll deal with that."

He took a deep breath, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he thought just what it meant if he didn't think of a way to fix this. He'd seen what happened to casinos when the Bratva or another organized crime family got involved. It spelled disaster, and hefty fines when the Feds found out who you were in cahoots with. He didn't need or want that.

"Hey, did you know it's three months today?" she asked after a moment.

"Three months?" he asked in confusion.

She nodded. "Yeah, three months since I got pregnant."

"Three months," he repeated. He glanced over at her quickly. "That's today? Really?"

She nodded again. "Yeah, well, at least three months since I thought I was getting a pap smear."

"We should celebrate," he said definitively. "It's not every day you're three months pregnant."

She scrunched her nose and said, "Actually, I probably will be for, you know, the next month…"

He shook his head. "No, that's not true. Tomorrow you will be three months and one day. Then three months and two days. Today is the only day you will be exactly three months pregnant."

"I guess that's true," she said thoughtfully.  
>"So, what do you want to do? It's lady's choice."<p>

She laughed, thinking about what it was she wanted to do. After a while she turned her head toward him and said, "To be honest, today's been a really long day and the only thing I want to do is sit on my couch with some ice cream."

He nodded. "Okay. I can work with that."

BBBB

They shared a fresh pint of rocky road ice cream, two spoons digging into the ice cream as they watched The Princess Bride. It felt so natural being there with her, that Oliver found it difficult to imagine a time when she wasn't a part of her life. He was struck with a sudden surge of affection, and he knew then that he would do whatever it took to keep her and their baby safe. Whatever it took – no matter the cost – he would do it.

"I love this scene," she said, oblivious to the minor revelation occurring beside her. She made a face and recited along with the television, "_Hello my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die_."

"Felicity," Oliver murmured.

She dug her spoon into the ice cream and scooped out a large hunk of ice cream, popping it in her mouth. After she pulled the spoon through her lips she said, "Mhm?"

"I need you to know something."

"Okay."

"What I told you before, I won't let anything happen to you. No matter what happens next, and what I have to do, I will make sure you and your family are safe."

"I know," she said softly. "But nothing is going to happen to us. He was probably bluffing."

"Did you see Tommy?"

"Okay, so that was bad," she relented. "But, what would he gain from hurting me? He'd just piss you off and make it even more likely that you won't strike the deal with him. What happened to Tommy was awful, but it was targeted. He didn't pay the debt, and so they made him pay another way. It wouldn't make sense for them to do that to me."

"You don't know these men," Oliver said.

"No, I don't," she admitted.

"They're brutal. They have no morals. Nothing. They'd hurt you and not think twice about it."

"Why did Tommy get involved with these guys again?" she asked weakly.

"Because he was desperate," Oliver said, shaking his head. "I just wish he'd told me the truth. I would have fronted him the money."

"He was probably too embarrassed," she offered.

"Yeah, well, I would have rather him be embarrassed than this."

BBBBB

That night after Oliver left Felicity went up to her room and pulled out her laptop. She'd managed to get the full name of this Bratva guy from Oliver and quickly typed the name into a database that she probably wasn't supposed to have access to, but she did anyway. She'd learned long ago not to feel guity snooping into places she shouldn't online. She might not be able to help Oliver at all with the business aspect of all of this, but she had other tools at her disposal. She reached over and grabbed a Powerbar, preparing herself for a late night.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hope you enjoy this!**

Chapter Nine

Felicity woke up, blinking her eyes slowly as she unstuck her cheek from her laptop's keyboard. She must have fallen asleep while looking into Mr. Bratva's hidden interweb closets. It had been a long night, filled with varying levels of success. She rubbed her palm against her cheek, the grooves from the keyboard pressing against her skin.

Someone knocked on her door and she glanced back, running her lips over her dry mouth.

"Yeah?" she called out.

"Oliver is here for you, babe," Donna said.

Felicity frowned, pulling herself up from her chair. She wasn't supposed to get to work until later that afternoon. She had class first, and then a quick lunch. She didn't expect to see Oliver that day at all, although she probably should have seen this coming. He was pretty freaked out from the whole incident the day prior, and it wasn't completely inconceivable that he'd try to keep an eye on her.

"Tell him I'll be right out," she said.

"Okay. I'm making waffles. Do you want some?"

Felicity walked over to her closet, rifling through her clothes and asked, "Chocolate chip?

"We're out. Blueberry."

"I'll have two," Felicity said. "Thanks Mom."  
>She changed into a pair of dark jeans and a red tank top with white stripes. She threw on a sweater and then headed out to the kitchen, pulling her hair into a high ponytail as she walked. Oliver sat at the kitchen table, eating one blueberry waffle and sipping on a cup of coffee. Felicity noticed that Donna gave him one of the mugs they usually kept only for themselves.<p>

"Hello Oliver," she said, yawning as she passed him.

"You look tired," he noted.

"It's my pregnancy heartburn," she said, tossing off the lie as easily as if she were recounting a trip to the grocery store. "And let me tell you, it's a bitch."

"Is this recent?" Oliver asked with some concern.

"It's not a big deal," she said. "I had it before. Stress and all that jazz, you know?"

Oliver nodded. "We can ask Dr. Smith about it when we go for our checkup tomorrow."

"Speaking of the checkup," Donna began, turning toward her daughter. "Are you really okay with me not being there? I still feel guilty for missing the first one, but you keep getting appointments when I have my shift. And we've been pretty down on girls at the casino –"

"It's fine," Felicity told her. "Oliver will go with me."

"I promise to take good care of her," Oliver assured Donna. "And we'll bring you back pictures."

Felicity nodded fervently. "They're going to be 3d this time. Isn't that cool?"

"I still can't believe how much technology has advanced since I had you," Donna said.

"It's a whole new world, Mom," Felicity said.

The toaster pinged behind them and a moment later Felicity had her waffles, and she washed them down with decaf coffee. There weren't many things she missed with pregnancy, but real coffee was one that she definitely did. Oliver noted her lack of enthusiasm in drinking her fake coffee and said, "I promise you when this is all over I'll buy you a large latte."

"Music to my ears," she cooed. "But I think this – " she pointed to her belly, "-is worth more than one latte. I'm talking about lattes for a month, buddy. For two months."

He grinned. "I will buy you as many lattes as you want. Although, I think you're actually supposed to still stay away from caffeine when you're breastfeeding."

"Oh," she said softly.

"If you are breastfeeding, I mean," Oliver said quickly. "Not that you need to. That's up to you."

She nodded awkwardly and took a large bite of waffle so that she didn't have to say anything back. Conversation was stilted as they finished their breakfast, Donna filling the pauses with the type of inane chit chat that only a mother can really provide.

"Alright, we need to go," Felicity said, standing up. "Are you sure you don't mind driving me to school? Because I can take the bus like every other morning."

"I can't let you ride the bus," he said smoothly.

"Oh, you mean like a normal person?" she returned.

He laughed, rolling his eyes. "Let's just go. Donna, it was a pleasure seeing you, as always."

"You too, Oliver. Drive safe now. You have precious cargo in that car."

He nodded solemnly and returned, "I will."

They got in the car, Oliver turning the key in the ignition, and Felicity said, "Are you going to pick me up every morning now?"

"If that's what it takes to make sure you're safe, then yes."

'That's ridiculous," Felicity said. "Nothing is going to happen."

"He directly threatened you," Oliver said. "I'm not going to just forget that."

"It was a scare tactic," Felicity said easily. "Besides, his mother is a blonde and they had a very good relationship."

Oliver looked over at her. "Excuse me?"

She crossed her legs. "I may have done some independent research last night."

He groaned. "Felicity-"

"Well, if this guy is threatening to kill me, as you are convinced, shouldn't I know a little about him?"

"Do not get involved," Oliver said firmly. "I don't want you anywhere near him or his people. I don't even want you thinking of him."

"Okay," she relented, although she had no plans of stopping her investigation. She'd gotten good information that night, but there was more she could find. There'd been some crumbs, but she'd fallen asleep before she could follow them.

"Have you decided what you're doing yet?" she asked.

Oliver shook his head. "I have until Sunday."

"Since when?"

Oliver gritted his teeth and said, "Since one of his men came to the hotel and told me before hustling a free drink out of me."

"Well, that's good," she said definitively. "It gives you a chance to figure out what to do."

"I know what I have to do," Oliver said unhappily. "I just don't like it."

"You're going to buy them in?" Felicity asked in disbelief.

"I don't really see another way," he said.

She went to say something but then stopped, her hand floating abruptly to her belly. Oliver noticed the sudden movement and asked, "What is it? Are you okay?"

Her mouth pulled at a grin and she nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just…the baby just kicked for the first time."

Oliver looked over at her with wide eyes. "Really?"

She nodded and a smile sprung to his mouth. He turned his gaze back toward the road, but she could feel his attention squarely on her.

"What did it fee like?"

"Just movement," she said. "It – oh, there. It's happening again."

"Wait, do you mean right now?" he said, pulling to a stop at a red light.

She nodded and told him, "Give me your hand."

"What? Felicity, I'm driving –"

"You're at a red light," she reminded him. "Give me your hand."

He hesitated for a moment before holding his hand out toward her. She took it and placed it firmly on her belly. The baby moved again, its tiny foot pressing against her skin, and Oliver inhaled sharply.

"Did you feel that?" she asked softly.

Oliver nodded. "Yeah, I did."

With his hand still on her belly he noted, "You've really grown in the past few weeks."

"Gee thanks," Felicity returned drily.

He removed his hand quickly and stammered, "No, that's not – you know what I mean."

She liked seeing him get all flustered, and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. "Yes, I know."

"When are you going to tell people?" he asked.

"I don't know. I sort of figure it's one of those things you don't really have to tell people. They'll figure it out by themselves."

"And it's father?" he asked.

She'd thought about this a lot over the past few weeks when she'd really started to show, and told him the conclusion she'd come to herself.

"It's none of their business," she said.

"You can tell them. If they start asking or something. It's nothing to be ashamed of for either of us."

"I know, but this isn't their baby. It's not their thing to know. Besides, the only person I'm close to there is Lydia, and she already knows."

Oliver looked over at her in confusion. "She does?"

Felicity nodded. "Believe it or not, she guessed it."

"How the hell did she guess it?"

"Her sister works in the hospital. She heard about the mix up, and then you visiting me all those times at work…"

"I don't visit you that much," he said defensively.

"You sort of do," she said. "But, I don't mind. Your being attentive. It's nice. I think it would be worse if I was carrying this baby and you were distant."

"I would never do that," he said immediately. "You got caught up in this mess and it's my responsibility to look out for you. There was no choice to make."

She felt her cheeks color and covered it with a question.

"Are you going to pick me up from class, too?"

"Yes, I am."

"I'd like to say, for the record, that I think this is ridiculous. Don't you have other things to do? Like run your hotel."

"These are my breaks," Oliver said. "Besides, I don't get to take my cars out nearly as often as I'd like. This gives them a workout."

"That's total crap."

"Look, it's only until this settles down," he said. "After Sunday, you'll be back to your beloved bus."

She smirked. "Good. Alright, I should head into class. If you get there too late you end up with seats in the back."

"What's wrong with seats in the back? That's where I always sat."

She could just picture him in the back of the classroom, actively taking part in activities wholly unrelated to the coursework.

"Thank you for the ride, Oliver."

"You're welcome, Felicity."

BBBBB

"You look larger than you did yesterday," Lydia said, eyeing Felicity's bulging midsection. She tried to wear darker colors now to camouflage it, but without true maternity clothes yet it was difficult.

"I'm not any larger," Felicity assured her, sorting through menus at the front desk. They were in poor shape from use, and she made a mental note to the talk to the manager to get them cleaned.

"Maybe it's the dress," Lydia said. "I have certain dresses that do that."

"You aren't pregnant," Felicity deadpanned.

"No, but after a good cheesecake binge I look pretty damn close."

Felicity snorted.

"So, no one else knows about…you know what…?" Lydia asked.

Felicity shook her head. "Nope."

"Luckily, I'm good at keeping secrets. I had a friend in middle school who told me stole Lipsmackers from Target, and I never told a soul."

Felicity stared at her. "You just told me."

Lydia's eyes went wide. "Shit."

"Just don't start telling people how good you are at keeping secrets and you'll be fine."

Lydia nodded. "Right. It's not like that comes up in conversation often. Never, really."

"Even if it does come out, it's not a big deal," Felicity said. "I mean, it is what it is. I'm not ashamed and neither is he."

"You shouldn't be. You guys are going to make one banging kid. I mean, with his bone structure and your hair. This kid is going to be a knockout."

Felicity smirked. "Thank you. I think."

She turned back to grab a few extra menus, and when she turned back she felt a jolt go through her like lightening on a rod. Motya Antakov stood in front of her, looking positively harmless in a threadbare grey tshirt and jeans. But then he smiled, and her thoughts turned to Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf.

"Hello dear," he said with a light Russian lilt. "Beautiful restaurant you have here. I hear your prime rib is the best on the strip."

"Insider tip, it's actually better over at Caesar's and it's about seven dollars cheaper," Lydia chimed, leaning against the desk. "Don't tell anyone I told you that, but…" she finished it with a wink and Felicity felt sick.

"Lydia, I think there are some ketchup bottles that need filling in the back," Felicity said.

"What?"

"The ketchup bottles in the back," Felicity repeated. "Oliver wanted me to tell you to fill them."

Lydia groaned. "He's giving me scut work for commenting on his butt last week, isn't he? If he doesn't want people to comment, he should wear his suit pants looser."

Felicity swallowed hard. "I'll tell him that."

Lydia turned her gaze back to Motya and pointed a slim finger at him. "Remember what I told you. Caesar's. And if you happen to get Stacy as your waitress, tell her you know me and you'll get free cake."

"I will," Motya said.

"I'm Lydia, by the way. And –"

"Ketchup bottles," Felicity hissed, desperately wanting her friend to stop flirting with the Russian Godfather.

"Yeesh, I'm going," Lydia breathed out. She leaned in closer to Felicity and as she passed whispered, "Keep those pregnancy hormones under control, will you?"

Motya's eyes followed Lydia as she padded back into the restaurant.

"Can I help you?" Felicity said in a hard voice.

"You sound impatient," Motya noted. "Does Mr. Queen know that someone so short of temper is at the helm of his restaurant? You are the first thing people see. He might have been better off with someone more pleasant."

"Mr. Queen is none of your concern," she returned icily. "Nor is the workings of this restaurant."

"I beg to differ," Motya returned smoothly.

"If you do not like the staff here perhaps you'd be better off going somewhere else," she said forcefully. "Anywhere else."

Motya laughed. "You do not like me. You do not know me, yet you display such hostility."

"You've threatened people I care about. From what I've heard, you've threatened me. So, excuse me for my display of hostility."

She'd seen Oliver approaching, and as she finished speaking he came up beside Motya, his eyes flashing.

"Everything okay here?" he asked in a level tone.

Motya turned toward him and clapped him hard on the shoulder. "Of course, Mr. Queen. I was just telling your hostess here what a delight she is."

Oliver looked at Felicity, his gaze searching. She nodded just a bit to tell him that she was okay, and Oliver said, "I only hire the best. Motya, why don't I take you over to one of our blackjack tables. We'd be happy to buy you into the game."

"Such hospitality."

"As always," Oliver said. "Come, it isn't wise to keep a game waiting."

The pair went off, Oliver paying her a parting glance that said he'd be back soon.

"I do still have until Sunday, correct?" Oliver asked Motya.

"The terms of our agreement have not changed."

"Then why are you here?"

"Is this not a public venue?" Motya opined. "Or do you need a share to walk through the front door."

"I'm sure you can see where my concern is coming from," Oliver said, trying to keep his voice calm.

Motya slid his arm around Oliver's shoulder and gave him a squeeze. "Relax, Oliver. You have until Sunday. I simply wanted to check in on my future investment. See how it's faring."

Oliver extricated himself from Motya's grasp. "So long as you are only checking in."

"What else would I be doing?"

"Stay away from her."

"It's interesting, you are so protective of her yet you say nothing of your wife," Motya said. "Not that I am judging you, of course. A mistress is one of the finest pleasures in life."

"My wife and I have been separated for months."

Motya laughed. "Well. That simplifies things, I'm sure."

Oliver gestured toward the blackjack table to the right of Motya and the Russian man sat down, nodding to the man beside him jauntily. Oliver gestured toward the dealer and said, "Put him in plus 500 dollars in chips."

"Yes, Mr. Queen."

"Thank you for the game. I hope it will be the first of many."

Oliver swallowed a sharp retort and told him, "Don't spend all your chips on one hand."

With that he turned on his heel and left, going directly over to Felicity at the restaurant. She was working on something at the computer, but looked up when she felt him approach.

"Are you okay?" he asked immediately.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "All he did was irritate me, really."

"I'm sorry. I should have figured of all the places you'd be in danger –"

"Oliver, stop," she said, reaching forward and grasping his wrist. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I can't stop living my life, and I won't."

Oliver sighed, nodding. "You're right. I just – if something were to happen to you because of me –"

"Nothing will happen," she told him. As an afterthought she said, "At least not before Sunday. Pissing you off won't serve any purpose."

He laughed in surprise. "That's your response? You'll be fine until Sunday?"

"I can only handle one big thing at a time," she said. "We have our checkup tomorrow, so that comes first. After that I'll think about whether or not the Russian mob is going to kill me, okay?"

"You shouldn't be so glib," he said, shaking his head.

"It's a defense mechanism," she admitted. "But, really Oliver, I will be fine."

"When are you off here?" he asked.

"8:00," she said. "Let me guess, you're going to drive me home."

"Yes," he said, leaving no room for conversation.

"Alright," she relented. "But I might require ice cream. Just so you know."

Oliver grinned just a bit. "If he comes over here again you let me know."

"I will."

BBBBB

The next day the Bratva and mob business was the farthest thing from Felicity's mind as she laid down on the bed in the doctor's office, a technician squirting a cold gel onto her belly.

"Now, this functions pretty much like an ultrasound," the technician said, rubbing the gel on Felicity's belly and then pressing the transmitter onto her skin. She moved it around a bit until she located the baby.

"And there is your baby," the technician said happily. "And I think…" she trailed off as she moved the transmitter, "…yes, I can tell you the gender, if you'd like."

Felicity looked over at Oliver. "What do you think?"

"It's up to you," he said.

She thought about it for a moment, considering what it would mean if she found out, and what it would mean if she waited. She still wasn't entirely sure how involved she'd be in the baby's life, and she didn't know how much Oliver wanted for her, either. If she knew the gender, it might make her get attached.

"I want to wait," she said after a moment. "Let's wait."

"We'll wait then," Oliver said.

"Is that normal?" Felicity asked the technician. "Parents not wanting to know the gender?"

The technician didn't answer, instead looking at the screen. The woman's mouth was set in a firm line, and the calculating look in her eyes made Felicity's blood run cold.

"Is everything okay?" Felicity asked nervously.

The technician seemed to be roused to attention and she began moving the transmitter again.

"The doctor will give you the results," she said.

"Why can't you give us the results?" Oliver asked. "You're looking at them right now."

"I'm not authorized to read results," the technician said, repeating, "The doctor will give you the results."

"But, can you just tell us if something is wrong?" Felicity said. Oliver came to her side and took her hand. "You made a face. I saw it. So, can you just tell us what is going on?"

"The doctor will read the results," the technician repeated.

"See, that's not good," Felicity said, feeling panic rise in her chest. "Because, if it was nothing you'd tell us. But, it's something. It's something you can't tell us, but the doctor can, and –"

"Can you please get the doctor?" Oliver asked, squeezing Felicity's hand.

The technician nodded, turning off the imaging machine. Felicity sat up, tugging her shirt back down to cover herself. Her body felt like it was made of lead.

"Something is wrong," she murmured after the technician left. " I can feel it. Something is wrong."

"It could be nothing," he said. "Let's just wait until the doctor comes."

Felicity nodded, telling herself that it was a waste of time to worry when you didn't know anything. After a few minutes the doctor walked in and then they knew.

"It's an epigenetic focus of the heart," the doctor explained slowly after reviewing the images. "In many cases, it results in absolutely nothing. But in other cases it can be an indicator of chromosomal abnormalities."

"How do we know which it is?" Felicity asked.

"You cannot tell purely from scans," the doctor said. "We can obviously test the baby once it is born. Before, though, there is one option. It's called an amniocentesis. This test can verify whether or not there are chromosomal abnormalities, however it comes with its own risks."

"Which are?" Oliver asked.

"Miscarriage."

Felicity's reached blindly for Oliver's hand, only to find he was also reaching for hers. She held her hand on his lap, her fingers pressing into his skin.

"If you are to go through with the test," the doctor continued, "you will be on bed rest for two days. In my experience, if the patient adheres to this bed rest the chances of miscarriage are very low."

"And this test, it definitely will show whether or not the chromosomal abnormalities are present?" Felicity asked.

The doctor nodded. "Yes."

"I think we need some time to decide," Oliver said, glancing down at Felicity. She nodded in agreement, holding his hand tighter.

"Of course. I would decide soon if you can, though. The sooner we know the better."

"We will. Thank you."

The doctor went to walk out of the room when Felicity suddenly said, "Wait."

He turned back. "Yes?"

"I'll do the test."

Oliver looked down at her in alarm. "What? Felicity, I –"

"I have to carry this baby for another five months. I need to know it's healthy. I'll do the bed rest. I'll do whatever I need to not endanger the baby. But I want this test."

Oliver was hesitant at first but then nodded, rubbing his jaw. "Okay. Then we'll have the test."

The doctor nodded. "Wonderful. I have an opening this afternoon, actually. Is that too soon?"

Felicity shook her head. "That's fine."

"Alright, then I have you set for…" he glanced down at his paperwork, "…four o'clock. That's about two hours from now."

"We'll stay close," Felicity told him.

"Alright. I will see you later today, then."

The doctor walked out and Oliver sat down next to Felicity on the bed. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

She nodded. "There are so many crazy things happening in our life right now. This is one we can deal with. We can get answers. I want those answers."

He slipped his arm around her shoulder and she dropped her cheek to his shoulder, taking in his now familiar scent.

"What are you thinking about doing if the test comes back positive?" she asked softly.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "That's a bridge we'll cross when we get there. If we get there."

She nodded, her hair brushing against his neck. "We'll have to call my mom. She's going to freak."

"I can call her for you."

"She'll want to be here."

"Then you should let her," Oliver said. "I know how hard it has been for her not being here for you."

"I don't want to put this on her," Felicity said. "I feel like I've put enough on her already."

"You said it yourself, she'll want to be here. You shouldn't take that choice from her."

Felicity nodded again. "And here I was thinking the Russian mob stuff would be the most dramatic happenings this week."

Oliver frowned, tightening his grip on her. "You can say that again."

**A/N: I just want to take a moment and thank all of you who are reading this story. I love hearing your thoughts! If you are reading, please leave feedback!**


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